


in perfect light

by sinequanon



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV), The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hurt Lydia, Hurt Stiles, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski are Twins, Magical Lydia Martin, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-14 13:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9184636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinequanon/pseuds/sinequanon
Summary: Stiles and Lydia come home after a long time away, adopt some werewolves, and save the town.There is also stalking, threatening, murder accusations, vampires, fairies, werewolfing, un-werewolfing, research, revelations, and magic, though not necessarily in that order.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my new fic! This is one of my favorites, even though it gave me tons of trouble along the way.
> 
> There is actually a third fandom that will be part of this story, and although they won't directly show up until chapter seven, there are a couple of hints along the way.
> 
> Happy reading!

Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night. -- From _The Old Astronomer (To His Pupil_ ) by Sarah Williams

<> <> <> <>

To Stiles and Lydia Stilinski, Beacon Hills had been mostly boring for the past two decades. They were not impressed with the fawning and flirting every time someone new or powerful passed through the territory, or with the way some of the town's more powerful residents acted as if they were above everyone else. Yes, the town was packed full of werewolves and other creatures (the day the nine year-old twins realized that their beloved library was full of faeries was still one of the best of their lives), but what decent, half-way intelligent town wasn't, really? Everyone had lives to lead, and they were mostly "go to work, go home, go to the grocery store, go home" boring kind of lives. The Mikaelsons were sometimes interesting, but they were rarely in town and mostly kept to themselves. All in all, the place was nothing too exciting.

The occasional roaming omega or wayward witch was swiftly dealt with by the pack or the police, and listening to the police scanner and looking through their father's files could only be so distracting, even if they _had_ unofficially helped him solve multiple cases over the years.

(As if they would have done anything else. After all, their dad was the only family they had left; they were going to protect him any way they could.)

The twins were generally friendly toward everyone, but mostly kept their own counsel, especially after their mother's death. By the time they were in middle school, Lydia had asserted herself as the vapid queen bee, and Stiles as the excitable prankster on the fringe. Lydia had minions, and Stiles had Scott.

Lydia pulled strings from behind the curtains; Stiles gathered information from the shadows.

It was enough to keep them satisfied, at least for a while. But after they had squeezed the last bit of information (the high school kids in this town knew way too many of their parents' secrets) out of Beacon Hills, Stiles and Lydia got restless.

A week into their freshman year of high school, a crazy werewolf hunter tried to burn down the Hale house with most of the family inside. Derek Hale, who just happened to be home from college at the time, managed to save his family, but the near-disaster reminded the twins that they weren't safe, even in a town like Beacon Hills. They decided that if they had to push almost everyone else away to protect themselves and others, so be it. They didn't want any more deaths on their hands.

Eight days after they graduated from high school, they packed their essentials, hugged their dad, and left. And they traveled and studied and learned and were definitely not bored.

They kept touch with their dad and the rest of the department, and with Scott and Jackson.

At twenty-seven, they returned home with multiple degrees, strong allies, and the skills to hide their magic from almost anyone.

It was kind of nice to be back in boring Beacon Hills.

Well, mostly.

<> <> <> <>

Lydia breathed in, letting the scent of pine fill her lungs, and squeezed her brother's hand. After nearly a decade and thousands of miles, they had finally come home. "Are you ready to do this?"

"Well, I've always wanted to go to Hong Kong," Stiles countered hopefully, eyes focused on the tree line. He didn't let go of Lydia's hand.

"We'll get there eventually. For now, we need to be here." She straightened her shoulders and stepped forward, pulling her brother along. "Let's get these wards done before everything starts coming out for the evening."

It would take multiple trips to set wards for the entire town, but thankfully, some of the town's previous residents had at least laid rudimentary protections along the border, so the twins wouldn't be working from scratch.

The hardest part would be keeping their work a secret from everyone other than their dad, Scott, and Jordan.

Stiles was surprisingly subdued as they carved the runes along the first stretch of border, and Lydia found herself spending as much time watching her brother as she did setting runes.

"I'll be fine," he said, noticing her scrutiny. "I'll just avoid the Hales while we're here."

"All of them?" The Hale family in itself was large, and not easily avoided. Their pack was even larger and spanned the county. "What about when Cora comes over to eat popcorn and complain about her newest boyfriend or we see Derek at the station? You know, _he_ might be part of the reason we were pulled here," Lydia remarked, trying to gauge her brother's mood.

Granted, neither of them were particularly happy to be drawn back to a place where seventy percent of the town's supernatural population disliked them, but Stiles's recurring dreams of Peter Hale had left him more irritable than usual.

It didn't help that Lydia had started to feel the pull toward Beacon Hills in the middle of the night, and that they had arrived without any sort of exit strategy in the event that something went horribly wrong while they were in town.

It was difficult being a spark for many reasons, not the least of which was the general unease that they tended to evoke in others. For everyday humans, hunter culture had painted them as unstable and dangerous, largely because it was almost impossible to accurately measure a spark's power level using the normal standards of magical testing. A person who measured as a minor power on a Tuesday, given the proper provocation, could measure much higher two days later, only to return to normal the day after that. Unlike witches, sparks needed no spellbooks or focus objects to use their powers, only the belief that they could, and despite the fact that superior sparks were rare (it was actually more likely to be killed by a falling vending machine than it was to encounter a powerful spark), most sparks of all ability levels hid their magic out of self-preservation.

Supernaturals, in contrast, tended to treat sparks very differently. Even minor sparks were courted by covens, clans, and packs, but constant threats from hunters made most sparks reluctant to expose themselves regardless of potential perks.

In short, no one knew what made a spark, but everyone knew that being one was a dangerous proposition.

That was actually one of the good things about Beacon Hills, Lydia thought, as she set the last rune of the night. There were enough supernatural creatures here that a couple of troublemaking sparks--even ones as powerful as the twins--could hide with a little effort.

Nevertheless, she and Stiles had covered their tracks well. They had spent their middle and high school careers on opposite sides of the social spectrum but with the same goal in mind: gathering information. They passed themselves off as low-level witches, easily dismissed in a town teeming with magic. No one expected the hyperactive boy with one friend and the airheaded social queen to be the smartest, most powerful people in Beacon Hills.

(Except for their dad. And Scott. And Jordan. Lydia was pretty sure that Jackson suspected, but was smart enough not to mention it.)

They had just finished the runes when they heard the distinctive, condescending drawl of Peter Hale. "Well, if it isn't the prodigal children returned."

Stiles swerved and nearly tripped at the sight of the man standing at the edge of the tree line, leaning nonchalantly against a pine.

"Mr. Hale," Lydia said curtly, ignoring the exaggerated leer he sent her way. "What are you doing here?"

"I do believe that's my line, don't you? Does your father know you're playing in the woods?"

"We were just on our way home," she replied, subtly herding her brother toward the jeep, "but thank you for your concern."

"The pleasure is all mine," he assured, watching them intently as the jeep drove away.

<> <>

"Please. Please don't hurt us. We haven't done anything." The woman's eyes flashed fearfully. "Please--"

The blade drew across her throat.

<> <>

"So, tell me what you two have been up to recently," Melissa said pointedly, spooning casserole onto her plate. "I was starting to think you'd been stolen away." Stiles and Lydia exchanged guilty looks. Melissa was the only person present who didn't know about the twins' powers. Scott knew--courtesy of an unfortunate encounter with a mountain lion when they were nine--but the Stilinskis had sworn him to secrecy.

Melissa, who had been like a mother to them for years, had been kept in the dark. Both the twins and their dad hated it, but keeping Melissa out of the loop kept her safe. She had no idea that their absence from Beacon Hills was as much about learning to control their sparks as it was about learning academics. Their doctorate degrees and worldwide travel was supplemented with amulets, talismans, and magical texts picked up along the way.

"Sorry, Mama McCall, we'll do better," Stiles promised, shoving food in his mouth.

"Are you planning on sticking around this time?"

"We're not sure yet,” Lydia hedged, as she felt Jordan's leg knock against hers encouragingly.

"We were on our way visit an herbalist in Hong Kong when Lydia had the urge to come home." Stiles reached over to spoon more vegetables onto the Sheriff's plate, ignoring his dad's wounded look. He could deal with it; he was the one who had shanghaied them into dinner with the McCalls on their first night back.

"And you need to visit him soon?"

"Maybe? He's not a really sociable guy." Actually, the guy was a paranoid conspiracy theorist who was deathly afraid of everything that Stiles and Lydia represented. They had been working for months to meet with him before Lydia had been pulled home.

"You're going to stick around for a little while, though, right?" Scott worried.

"We'll stay here as long as we need to," Lydia offered the McCalls a reassuring smile. "Now, Scott, tell me about this girlfriend of yours. Allison, is it?"

<> <>

Stepping into the Beacon Hills Public Library always felt a lot like coming home. Stiles and Lydia had spent much of their childhood here, both before and after their mother's death. Rose, the librarian, had always seemed larger than life, dressed in a hodgepodge of clothes and smelling faintly of sandalwood. She always took time to answer the twins' queries on whatever caught their interest--even offering occasional suggestions--and quietly encouraged their magic in the wake of their mother's death, when their father was too swamped in his own grief to truly help his children in that way.

The library still held the aura of mystery that had fascinated them as children, and both twins sighed in pleasure as soon as they stepped into the building. Rose's eyes lit up the moment she saw them, and she immediately swept them up in a crushing hug before stepping back and regarding them carefully.

"Something called you here,” she said finally. “I can feel the importance of it."

Lydia nodded. "Haven't figured it out yet. Can we study here?"

"Of course. You may go downstairs, if you wish. Everyone will be pleased to see you."

The basement of the library was restricted to a few lucky individuals in the county: it housed texts and artifacts that were unavailable to the human population, as well as some of the supernatural ones. The twins had practically lived downstairs, hidden away from the town, after their mom had died, enough that the brownies had taken to bringing them lunch and refusing to leave them alone until the twins had cleaned their plates. Even Zeus, the library's feline security system, let them freely roam, though that might have had as much to do with the copious amounts of ear-scratching the Stilinskis offered as it did their trustworthiness.

Unfortunately, they wouldn't be able to tell what had brought them home until something triggered Lydia--which why they were in the library just randomly flipping through texts. If they were lucky, she would recognize something quickly; otherwise, they would be drinking tea and petting Zeus all day.

By lunchtime, Stiles could tell that Lydia was frustrated. The cookies that Rose had brought them thirty minutes before had improved their moods, but not their results.

"We have to go to the Hale house," she declared, scooping up the last cookie.

Stiles's distaste for that suggestion was obvious. "And say what?"

"We need to use the library. I'll make up an excuse, and you can be my assistant."

He made a face, but conceded the point. "Fine. Let's just do it tomorrow and get it over with."

Not that they had a choice, but Stiles hoped that whatever had brought them home and sent them to the Hale house didn't expose their secret. Lydia hid it better, but she was just as concerned as her brother about this turn of events.

Lydia was just grateful that everyone loved the Sheriff; it gave them a little more wiggle room than most when dealing with the residents of Beacon Hills. Still, showing up at the Hale house unannounced and demanding to see the library probably wouldn't go over well.

They were still going to do it, of course. Mostly because they needed to, but also because the two of them could be remarkably vindictive when they wanted to be.

They stayed in the restricted section for most of the day, only leaving when Zeus flopped onto their open books in a blatant attempt to beg for food and two of the brownies started pestering them incessantly about going home for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and/or kudos are always appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

Lydia and Stiles stood on the Hale porch early the next morning, waiting for Talia Hale's permission to use the family library. They arrived at just past 8:00 for two reasons: one, to make themselves as annoying as possible; and two, because they wanted to have the time to work on the wards in the afternoon before having dinner with their dad at the station. 

The alpha stepped out onto the front porch with them--obviously still in the process of getting ready for the day--rather than invite them inside. Rude, maybe, but not unexpected. The supernatural people of this town seemed pretty evenly divided between believing the twins were immature freeloaders and suspecting them of being criminal masterminds. The twins largely took the situation in stride: it was practically a competition between them to see which of them could elicit more sympathetic looks from the townspeople for their dad.  

Lydia wasn't sure what Talia believed, but she definitely didn't trust them. It showed in the rigid set of her shoulders, and in the way various faces kept surreptitiously peeking out of the windows to look at them.

Lydia knew that the woman would let them in anyway, but she wouldn't be happy about it. 

"May I ask what you are looking for?" Talia asked curiously, finally leading them through the house after a half-hour of pointless small talk. 

"I'll know it when I see it," Lydia answered honestly. Her answer would seem like an evasion to the alpha, but the twins didn't particularly care. "Don't worry, we won't steal anything," she said slyly, just to watch Talia stiffen. Stiles followed silently behind, soaking in as many details of the old home as possible. 

Lydia was not the least bit surprised to find Peter Hale in the library when they arrived, lounging as if he had been there for hours. A quick glance at Stiles showed that he was a little more uncomfortable, though Lydia suspected that her brother had mostly personal reasons for his reaction to the handsome werewolf, and resolved to tease him about them later.

To the unobservant, Peter was the picture of nonchalance, his body loosely draped across a leather couch in the corner of the room, but it was his piercing eyes that told another story. 

Ignoring the wolf, Lydia stepped forward to the first section of books, lightly tracing her fingers over the spines. It wasn't the best way to get a feel for their energies, but it was much quicker than opening each one. It was highly doubtful that Talia would let them stay long enough for that, nor did they particularly want to. Lydia was still clinging to the the tiny hope that the wards were the reason that they had been called home; with any luck, she would be drawn to a particularly helpful text on wards that would teach them a new way to protect the town, they would fix them, and then they would leave.

Lydia slowly wandered through the library, learning bits and pieces from each section before moving on. It wasn't as if she was reading the books; it was more about getting a sense for which ones would be useful according to her spark. There were more than a few things that piqued her interest, and things she knew that would interest her brother, that she knew were not relevant to the task at hand and set them aside for later. The two of them would have to come back here the next time they were in town. 

She could vaguely hear Peter trying to engage Stiles in conversation, but she tuned it out and continued to wander.  

 _There_. 

The shelf she was standing in front of was full of books about werewolves. 

 _Really. How pedestrian_. 

Now, if there was a diary, or a bestiary, that would be interesting, but this? Generic “how to be a werewolf” sort of stuff. Sighing internally, she grabbed the books that felt important and carried them back to where her brother was still being accosted by Peter Hale. 

"...taking an innocent life takes something from you as well, don't you think?" The werewolf was watching her brother with intense scrutiny, as if Stiles were suddenly going to confess to whatever crime it was Peter was accusing him of committing. Even if they weren't the Sheriff's children, they would know better than that. The werewolf didn't even notice her presence until she dropped the books next to him with an obnoxiously loud thunk.

Seriously? This was the dreaded Hale pack enforcer?  

After taking a bare second to recover, the werewolf picked up one of the books that she had brought and gave the twins a calculated grin. "You want to use our library to learn about werewolves? I'd be happy to demonstrate whatever you want to know." 

Lydia sat, and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "No, thanks. I'm not your type." 

"I think the better question is why a family of wolves," Stiles said, glancing at the titles and determinedly ignoring his sister, "needs to have basic books about their kind. Are they self-help volumes?" 

"You may find that one day your mouth will get you into trouble," Peter said, still smiling. 

"Oh, that happens all of the time. I don't let it bother me anymore." 

"If you boys are done flirting--" Lydia began. 

"Hey!" She ignored the entirely fake objection from Stiles and continued, "Stiles and I need to get started." 

The exaggerated pout had both twins rolling their eyes. "I can't stay and help?" Peter asked.

The twins exchanged long looks, and Stiles grinned. "It's your house," Lydia offered noncommittally, pretending to study her nails. She was sure the wolf would regret his decision to stay very shortly. Her brother was extremely effective at making people feel uncomfortable. 

"So, Peter," Stiles began, "what do you know about the history of male circumcision?"

It took approximately twenty minutes of increasingly invasive and personal questions for Stiles to drive Peter away. 

<> <>

"Twenty minutes? You're getting sloppy," Lydia commented lightly, not looking up from her work. 

"I wanted to poke at him a bit. You should have heard the conversation we were having earlier. I think he believes that I'm somehow responsible for the ritual killings." 

Lydia whipped her head up in surprise, meeting her brother's wide-eyed stare. "Why?" 

He shrugged, but Lydia could tell his feelings were hurt. "Evidently, my moral ambiguity and lack of motherly influence have made me susceptible to evil." 

"He said that to you?" Lydia really, really hoped that Peter hadn't said that to Stiles, because then she'd have to kill him, and that would be _so_ time consuming. Plus, it would upset Stiles, and they had promised dad they would try not to kill anyone, even if the person deserved it. "He brought up mom?" 

Her brother nodded. "I know that it's not okay, but it's also not important. This is what we've worked for." He jotted down a few more notes before turning to his sister. "We've deliberately misled people; of course they're going to have the wrong idea." 

"But murder? I'd be much more likely to murder someone than you." 

Stiles grinned at his sister. "It's one of the perks of being adorable. No one suspects you. You're like a koala: super cute, super vicious." 

"Thank you for the lovely compliment," she said sweetly, before dropping the conversation in favor of studying.

An hour and copious notes later, Stiles broke the silence. "Why werewolves, do you think? I mean, pack dynamics are interesting, but it's not like we're going to be joining a pack." 

Lydia shrugged. They would figure it out eventually. "Mine is mostly on anchors, so..."   
"Whatever it is, we'll deal with it." Just like everything else.

They kept reading until the queasy feeling in Lydia's gut went away. 

On their way out, the twins politely thanked Talia for the use of her library. "It was a great help," Lydia said, "though we could have done without the insult to our dead mother." 

The two of them walked out without waiting for a response.

<> <>

The lack of crying was disappointing this time. Still, beggars couldn't be choosers, and only the foolish would wait to attack vampires after the sun had gone down. Maybe she could incapacitate them with vervain so they'd be weak when the sun went down and she could play with them a bit before she killed them?

No. Business always came before pleasure. 

She grabbed the axe.

<> <>

Jackson glanced at Lydia in concern. She had been quiet ever since he had picked her up, and that was very much unlike her. He knew that his parents were overbearing at the best of times, but Lydia usually did a much better job at covering up her nerves. For all that she didn't like his parents, she still wanted them to approve of their relationship and did her best to impress them every time they had dinner with them.  

Lydia was not in the mood for dealing with the Whittemores at the moment. Peter Hale had essentially accused her brother of murder, and he was well-known for being a skilled manipulator. If he tried to hurt Stiles in any way, they would be forced to either retaliate or run, and both situations could make them look guilty and bring hunters to their town. Unfortunately, there wasn't anything to be done at the moment, as much as she hated the idea of letting a potential threat linger. Forcing herself to shove the problem to the back of her mind for the moment, she tried to focus on her boyfriend instead.

In no time at all, Jackson and Lydia were at his parents house, knocking on the door. The pleasantries were covered easily enough among the four of them, and Lydia began to have a tiny sliver of hope that she and Jackson would escape the evening unscathed. Unfortunately, that optimism only lasted through supper. 

Jackson's mother had brought out coffee like usual, and Lydia and Jackson both took advantage of the opportunity to ignore the odd tension in the room by drinking rather than talking.

"What exactly are your intentions with our son?"  

"Excuse me?" That was blunt, even for the Whittemores. Underhanded jabs were usually more their style. Mostly, Lydia assumed, because they thought she didn't know what they were talking about. Sometimes, pretending to be dumb was incredibly exhausting.

"Lydia, you're a very nice girl. But we all know that you and your brother are...underachievers. Jackson needs to marry someone who will match him magically." 

Jackson couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You do know that I'm human, right? So are you."  

"But you have the potential to be so much more," his adoptive mother crooned. "You've wasted enough time with Lydia, don't you think?"

  "Are you kidding me? If anything, I'm the one that doesn't deserve her." He put his arm protectively around his girlfriend and ushered her toward the door. "We're going to go. Call me when you want to talk like adults."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: two more chapters and a Peter/Stiles fic.
> 
> I know that this is a horrible end to a chapter, but it had to be this way. Sorry.
> 
> See you next time, and thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles was going to kill him if he made it out of this alive, Scott thought, pushing his body to move faster. Everyone knew to stay out of the preserve this time of year because of preparations for Samhain, but Scott had to test his luck trying to take a shortcut home, and now he was paying the price for his stupidity. He knew from chatting with Parrish earlier that there weren't any supernatural rites scheduled in the forest tonight, but that didn't mean that the forest was safe.   

Scott had no idea how long the wolf had stalked him before it had lunged at him from the darkness, but he hadn't seen it until it was taking a bite out his side. As he fled, his mind flashed back to the last time he had been attacked like this--a mountain lion that time--and how Stiles had helped him. He knew Stiles would help him this time, too, if Scott could get to him.   Praying his asthma would not act up for once, Scott pushed a little harder in his attempt to escape whatever was behind him.   Scott broke the treeline at a run, stumbling over the uneven ground. It was at least another ten miles to the Stilinski house; he definitely couldn't make it that far.

Maybe he could hide--  Scott let out a grunt as he collided with someone, punching the rest of the breath out of his already struggling lungs. His knees hit the ground with a thud.

  "Scott? What's wrong?" Deputy Derek Hale was looking down at him, concern etched into his features. He pulled the younger man to his feet and started looking him over for injuries. "Are you hurt? Are you having an asthma attack?"  

Scott had to smirk a little at Derek's concern--ever since he had gotten the job at the Sheriff's station, he had treated Scott, Stiles, and Lydia like younger siblings. Between Derek and Jordan, the trio had gotten a lot of love over the past few years. It helped him calm down a bit, knowing that Derek would help him.  

"I'm okay. Something bit me, though." He lifted his shirt to give Derek a better look.  

He heard rather than saw Derek take a shaky breath. "Scott, this is a werewolf bite."   

"Seriously?" Scott didn't know whether to be excited or terrified. Maybe both.  

"We have to tell my mom that there's a rogue in the woods."  

Scott looked startled for a moment, like he hadn't expected the offer, before shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Derek, but I don't want to join your family's pack."  

"You have to have a pack! You can't survive on your own," Derek said incredulously. "And what about Allison? Chris and Victoria won't be pleased that their daughter is dating a lone wolf."

"Just trust me, okay? Stiles and Lydia can help me." At Derek's reluctance, he added, "you know they're a lot smarter than people think they are."  

Derek sighed heavily like he hated everything, but acquiesced quickly enough. "The full moon is in two weeks. Get yourself under control before then, or my mom will make you join the pack."  

<> <>

 "...and he told me that if I couldn't figure out how to control myself before the full moon, that I'd have to join their pack, so you have to help me," he said, finally stopping for a breath.  

"Of course we'll help you, Scott," Lydia assured him, mentally running through other available packs in the area. Finding an anchor wouldn't be difficult, either: she and Stiles were experts at control. "We just need to find you an anchor, and a pack."  

"I kind of thought I already had one," Scott said, motioning toward the two of them. "Pack is family, right? Well, mom and you guys and Jackson are my pack. If you want to be. Besides, you guys did all that research."  

Lydia felt her heart speed up, and she was almost knocked out of her chair as Stiles shot across the table to hug Scott.

"You and Mama McCall," he shot Melissa--who still looked a little shocked by her son's transformation--a watery smile, "mean the world to us, too. We'll be the most kick-ass pack ever."  

Despite the potential problems that the increased scrutiny would definitely bring, Lydia couldn't help but agree.  

<> <>

The Hales, with assistance from the Argents, spent a week searching for the rogue alpha before frustration kicked in and Derek had to tell his mother about Scott so she could be prepared if something went wrong. She was, of course, less than pleased.  

"You want to leave a newly bitten werewolf in the care of the Sheriff's delinquent son on his first full moon? Are you insane?"

  "Mom, I have faith in Scott and Stiles. You don't know them like I do--"  

"Just because he can charm his way into the other deputies' graces does not make him capable of controlling a feral werewolf." She slammed her fist against the counter in outrage. "Do you want to be responsible for the Sheriff's untimely death?"  

Personally, Derek thought that if anyone could control Scott on the full moon, it would be Stiles. It was a gut feeling he had, and his mom had always taught he and his sisters to trust their instincts. True, Derek had only been with the department a few months before the twins left for college, but there was something about them that he only saw within the confines of the Sheriff's station. It was there in the way they brought their dad dinner every Wednesday evening, and in the way they brought the entire station coffee and doughnuts on Friday mornings. They pitched in when the station was understaffed, brewed hangover potions for the drunks and patiently took the weekly report from Mrs. Waller about her missing cat. They were more than their reputations made them out to be. For whatever reason, they seemed to be content with the rest of the town thinking poorly of them.   That didn't mean, however, that Derek was going to pretend to be fooled like the rest of them.

"Stiles and Lydia won't let anything happen to Scott--" Derek began.

  "Especially if one of them is responsible for the murders in the county. Not even his father will be able to save him if he is the one committing the sacrifices." Peter strode into the room wearing his usual smirk, Klaus sliding in beside him. He turned to get the two of them coffee, letting his words stew with Talia, and the deputy could tell when they truly registered because his mother's eyes flashed red. Derek swallowed a sigh and resolved to give Scott a heads up before the inquisition that would undoubtedly occur.  

<> <>

"Thanks for the offer," Scott said cheerfully, "but I'm doing well." Both of the McCalls resolutely ignored the tick in Talia's jaw as they declined the alpha’s request that Scott join the Hale pack. "I have enough help, thank you."

Of course, he was not about to tell the alpha that a lot of his training involved Stiles shooting lacrosse balls at him and playing magically-enhanced hide-and-seek with the twins around town because her head might actually explode.

"I'm sure that the twins are very smart," Talia offered, though her expression said otherwise, "but you have no idea what's going to happen on the full moon. Do you really want to risk other people's lives?" she asked, ignoring the piercing look from Melissa McCall.  

"It's been tough," Melissa agreed, attempting to be civil, "but Scott and I both feel that he'll be better off with his friends. They--"  

"Are not werewolves, and cannot begin to understand what it's like to be a werewolf,” Talia cut in, frustrated.

"That's awfully speciest of you, Alpha Hale," Melissa said testily, though her smile didn't waver. "I love Stiles and Lydia like they were my own, and if they say they can help Scott through his transition, I believe them."  

Peter, who as far as Scott could tell, had no purpose for being there, finally entered the conversation and decided to make things worse. "If I may ask, why all this resistance to joining a pack? You can't protect your friends if you've ripped them to shreds."

Scott's heart gave a little stutter at his words, but his expression remained stony. Peter was grudgingly impressed. "A mystery? I'll have to introduce you to my husband soon; he just loves solving mysteries." 

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Stiles was aware of how it looked, though he was also dumbfounded by the implication that he was a murderer. The department knew that he was innocent, as he had literally been inside the station during the attacks, but the fact that Peter Hale would insinuate that he (or Lydia) had brought the murderer to Beacon Hills really made him angry. Exactly what had Stiles ever done to the guy?

In contrast, the Hale Pack enforcer had taken to following Stiles around, hovering just inside his field of vision and being generally creepy.

Despite what others might have thought, Stiles and Lydia both liked the Hales. Cora had been in their class at school, Derek was one of their dad's deputies, and Talia's mom Amelia had been the secretary at the elementary school. There were a lot of Hales, easily spotted around town, and just because one of them was majorly annoying didn't mean they disliked them all.

Stiles supposed it was understandable: the county was under attack and the twins were the only obvious "new" things in town, but the idea was idiotic. Stiles had said as much.

Loudly, and in the middle of the grocery store, because people needed more reasons to think that he was weird. Still, Stiles supposed there were worse places for a werewolf and a spark to get into a fight than the cereal aisle; he just couldn't think of any at the moment.

"If you and your pack are so sure I'm guilty," Stiles seethed, slamming the poor box into his cart with much more force than necessary, "then you're within your rights to kill me. My dad couldn't even object." He glared at Peter. "So, why not kill me?"

"You won't be any fun after you're dead," Peter said, taking an unconscious step toward the younger man before stopping and visibly reasserting himself. "Besides, your mother would never forgive me."

Stiles tensed at the mention of his mother, but stood his ground. "My mom always said that you were one of the smartest, most charming people she had ever met. Normally, I'd agree with her. Right now, though, you're being an idiot. If you'll excuse me," he gestured to his cart full of food, "I need to get this home."

Stiles was still furious as he loaded the food into his car and started for home. Peter had somehow, based on literally no evidence, decided that Stiles was either evil or stupid enough to be manipulated into murder. To make matters worse, Peter's husband Klaus had also started following him around, making vaguely threatening comments at every opportunity.

It would be amusing if it wasn't so troublesome.

Because having the attention of the Mikaelsons was just what the Stilinskis needed.

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Scott called Stiles and Lydia as soon as the Hales had left his house, searching for comfort. The twins had shown up less than an hour later with enough junk food to last the trio for days.

  "I could tell she was getting upset, Peter too, but just barely. They have really good control," Scott shoved Stiles in an attempt to get to the last slice of pizza, only to be elbowed in the ribs, "Ow!"

  "Control yourself by stepping away from the pizza," Stiles said, taunting his friend with his prize.  

"Were you having any trouble?" Lydia asked, slapping Scott's hand as he tried to steal some of her food instead.  

"Nope. I just thought of you guys and how hard to work to control your powers and hide from hunters, and being a werewolf didn't seen like that big of a deal, so...what?"

Lydia threw herself into Scott's arms, with Stiles sandwiching Scott between them. It took Scott a few minutes to realize that all of them had tears in their eyes.  "You, Scott McCall, are one of the best friends we could ever have."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, when I pasted this chapter, it became one large block of text that I had to untangle. I think I got everything fixed, but if you see a mistake, please let me know.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Over the next week, two more people were bitten. Lydia didn't know either Erica or Isaac very well, but Stiles and Scott knew Isaac as a fellow benchwarmer from lacrosse, and Stiles and Erica partnered a lot in science classes throughout high school, so the two new wolves weren't immediately resistant when the twins showed up on their doorsteps.

The “you're a werewolf” conversations went better than expected, especially with the ever-earnest Scott McCall as the exhibit werewolf.   In fact, Erica's initial reaction was to laugh in their faces.

"You're kidding me, right? Because my life hasn't been insane enough." She let them in, though, so Stiles considered it a win.

  "I know it sucks that you were attacked and that you're a werewolf, but at least you won't have epilepsy anymore," Stiles offered sympathetically, patting her shoulder.  

"What?"  

"It's true," Scott added. "Instead of asthma, I have claws and fangs." He transformed just long enough for Erica to understand the situation.

  "Oh my...that's _awesome_!" She looked genuinely pleased. "So, no offense, but why are you here instead of the Hales? I mean, they are the local pack."

  "That's true," Stiles conceded. "They'll probably come to you. Isaac, too."  

Truthfully, Erica liked the Hales, but the interplay among Stiles, Lydia, Scott, and Jackson? That was something she had longed for since they were in high school. She watched Scott pet Lydia's hair fondly, the other girl subtly leaning into his touch.

"The Hales are fine, but Stiles and Lydia are my family, and they..."  

"I get it. You feel protective of their giant brains."

  "What?"  

Erica scoffed at everyone's surprise, pointing at Stiles. "I was your lab partner for years. I know how smart you are. It wasn't any of my business if you wanted to act like an idiot in public."  

 _Okay, then_.

"So, want to join our pack?"  

"Naturally, I have always been a supporter of brains over brawn. Count me in."  

The conversation with Isaac was remarkably similar to the one with Erica, though Scott did all of the talking with Isaac.  

"You're a werewolf."

  "Yep."

  "And I'm a werewolf."  

"Uh huh."

  "And you want me to join your pack?"

  "Lydia and Stiles are running it."  

"Oh. Okay."  

"Really?"  

Isaac rolled his eyes. "I sat next to you guys on the bench for four years. You were nice to me, you shared your snacks with me, and I can't tell you how many hours I spent listening to you giving detailed descriptions of the strengths and weaknesses of all of the players on both teams."  

"See you on Saturday, then."  

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Stiles was right: the Hales did visit both Erica and Isaac, only to discover that the Stilinski twins had already been there and convinced the new wolves to join them. The girl, Erica, had had the audacity to laugh at them when Peter had "strongly suggested" she join the Hale pack. By the time the two of them had made it home, the Hale siblings were unbearably angry.

"We can't in good conscience let those kids roam free without a pack." Talia chomped viciously into a carrot as she swung herself up on the counter, narrowly avoiding her husband's swat in an attempt to keep her out of the kitchen.

"They're not children, Talia," Lucas reminded her.

"No, this is worse," Peter said, smirking at the exasperation on his brother-in-law's face as Peter stole food as well. "These are twenty-somethings who think they know it all." He popped the vegetable into his mouth and chewed loudly. "At least children can be led."

"As far as I can tell, they're relying on the Stilinskis as anchors," Talia continued as if Peter hadn't spoken. "But the twins aren't magically strong enough to contain three new werewolves."

"I've told you before that those two are far too clever to be trusted," Peter pointed out.

"You just don't like them because they remind you of yourself and Niklaus."

"Didn't anyone notice that these sacrifices started when the twins returned to town?" the enforcer countered.

"Peter, they are _not_ killers," the man said irritably. Lucas had tried to be supportive of his family, but the stress of the murders and attacks was making people crazy. "I have known John Stilinski since I was nine and we pretended to be astronauts together in his backyard. He is a kind and fair man, and he will unfailingly protect this town. Even if you don't trust his kids, you can absolutely believe that those kids will do anything to protect their dad. Including," Lucas looked pointedly at Peter, "redo the town wards."

Peter opened his mouth to question Lucas further, only to be interrupted by Laura charging into the room like a herd of elephants, Ellie on her back and Derek on their heels.

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The twins knew that it was only a matter of time before the Hale Alpha visited them. Even with Derek's support, no one who had bought into their performances over the years would think them capable of running a pack of newly-turned werewolves. Although, based on Erica's and Isaac's reactions, maybe they weren't as good at fooling people as they had assumed.   Still, they were going to enjoy spending time with their dad, the McCalls, Jordan, and Jackson for as long as they could, and only deal with the Hales when absolutely necessary.

To that end, family night with Jackson.

"So, Jackson, Lydia tells me that your parents are against your relationship," the Sheriff ventured cautiously. At Jackson's blank look he added, "I'm not sure that broccoli can take any more abuse."  

Jackson frowned down at his mangled vegetables, then back up at the Sheriff. "They're just being petty and stupid. I love Lydia, and they know that. I'm not going to take some trophy wife just to make them happy."  

"I didn't think you would," he soothed. "I just want you to know that, marriage or not, you will always be a part of my family. Now pass the carrots, would you?"  

"Dad's right, you know," Stiles added, trying to put his friend more at ease. "You're like the brother I never wanted." 

Jackson told him to shut up, but he was still smiling while he said it.

 The plan was to clean up after dinner and then settle in for a movie and some ice cream, everyone seamlessly filling their usual roles. Jackson queued the film while the twins tidied up and the Sheriff got dessert, and they had all just managed to get comfortable in the living room when the doorbell rang.  

No one was particularly shocked by the arrival of Talia and Peter Hale. Disappointed, maybe, but not surprised. The Sheriff sent the twins and Jackson upstairs with the ice cream and made them promise to stay there until the Hales had left, both of his children pointedly expressing their displeasure by loudly enjoying their dessert as they trudged up the stairs. John barely repressed his sigh; who knew what he would be forced to eat tomorrow thanks to meddling werewolves?

Talia, thankfully, didn't ask to speak with the twins, and got straight to the point after coming in and settling imperiously into her offered chair. "As you may know," she said, "there are three new werewolves in town, and all of them have declined the help of our pack."  

The Sheriff nodded slightly. "Is that a problem?" John already knew it wasn't illegal. Unconventional and highly unusual, but not illegal. "Do they have to join your pack?"  

"Not necessarily, but we do have quite a bit of experience in being werewolves." She gave him a small smile before turning serious again. "Please understand that we're concerned for the safety of the community and the new wolves themselves."

A thump came from upstairs, followed by some cursing, but John ignored it in favor of the guests in front of him. "I understand where you're coming from, but until a crime is committed, there is nothing I can do for you." He was relieved when the alpha nodded understandingly. Peter Hale, however, was a different story.  

"It is curious that these attacks began around the same time your children returned," he offered casually, and the Sheriff saw red. He had always respected the Hale enforcer, and had worked with him often enough over the years to like him despite his thorny exterior, but no one was allowed to threaten his kids.

"Are you accusing my children of something, Mr. Hale?"

  "No," Talia said immediately, shooting her brother a scathing look. "We are not. We are merely concerned that they don't have the proper experience in dealing with more dangerous supernatural creatures."  

The Sheriff gave the wolves a tired smile. "They have more experience than you think." 

Talia's face turned sympathetic. "What happened to Claudia was terrible; I'm sure it affected them profoundly."  

The alpha may have been the one offering him sympathy, but John was staring at Peter.

"You have no idea."  

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“Do you think we can tie these runes together to make the wards stronger?” Stiles asked suddenly, hesitating in the middle of his work. "Like Mayan hieroglyphics? If we can fit them together, kind of like a puzzle, we can make all of the pieces stronger."

“I don't see why not.” Lydia stopped as well and cocked her head, considering. "I'm sure that we'd be the only people doing it, though."

Which meant that they would need to be careful to not identify themselves through their work. If anyone magically knowledgeable, such as Klaus or Peter, attributed the altered wards to the twins, it could cause them a number of problems.

The fact that Peter had caught them at the wards their first day back, even if no one would believe that they were powerful enough to for such intricate work, would get them into trouble.

 _Oh, well_ , Lydia thought sadly. _Just another example of our brilliance that no one but we will ever see._

A few painstaking hours later, the twins stood back to admire their handiwork. “Anyone who sees these wards is going to think they were designed by a schizophrenic," Stiles remarked cheekily as they packed up their supplies. 

“We'll have to see if they work first, but if they do, maybe it will make people think twice about coming here.” 

Stiles smiled. “I thought that's what the Mikaelsons were for.”  

“Klaus _is_ rather off-putting,” she admitted. She paused in the middle of loading the jeep to turn back toward her brother. “Jackson and I keep seeing him on our morning run.”  

"He hasn't approached you, has he?"  

"No, but considering his husband thinks we're murder twins, it's only a matter of time before he approaches one of us."

  "At least the rest of them are out of town for the moment."

And that was a good thing, Stiles thought, considering the hybrid had shown up in his peripheral vision twenty minutes ago.

"For now," Lydia agreed. "Are you ready?"  

"Actually, I was waiting for our guest to join us," Stiles said drily, motioning to Klaus. Lydia jolted in surprise, but joined her brother in jumping up on the hood of their car to wait for him to approach.

In the blink of an eye, the hybrid was in front of them, power in his frame and a smirk on his face. "You must be Stiles."  

"Must I?" Stiles questioned. He didn't move.

Niklaus was actually the only Mikaelson that the twins had never met before, the hybrid having been busy in New Orleans for the first few years that the Original family had moved to Beacon Hills. By all accounts, he and Peter were frighteningly well-matched.

Klaus's smirk vanished. "You're rather impertinent, aren't you? Perhaps I should do my dearest husband a favor and snap your neck." 

"I really wish you wouldn't," Stiles admitted easily.

"Maybe if you stopped lurking in the forest like a stalker we'd be nicer," Lydia suggested, nonchalantly flipping her hair as she jumped down to get into the car, pulling her brother after her.

The hybrid's smile was sharp. "Where's the fun in that?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one also became a large, annoying block of text, so feel free to let me know if you spot any mistakes.
> 
> Next week: Chapters 5-6, and an AU, pre-canon, child Stiles fic (with werewolves).


	5. Chapter 5

Two days after the Hales visited the Stilinski house, Peter showed up at the Sheriff's office.

"I see you've brought bribes," the Sheriff said when he saw the wolf standing in his doorway.

Without waiting for an invitation, Peter sauntered in, placing the bag on the desk before taking a seat. "I thought the doughnuts would be appreciated." It was as close to an apology as John was going to get from the other man, and they both knew it.

John took the time to quietly enjoy his pastry, with Peter watching him all the while. "Do I need to worry about poison?"

He only saw the flash of hurt in the other man's face because he was looking for it. "Of course not." Peter paused, reaching for a doughnut himself. "I do want to talk about your children, though. Stiles, specifically. If he needs help--"

"Stop."

Peter froze. "I can't give you the answers that you want." John blatantly took a moment to sip his coffee and organize his thoughts. "My kids aren't close to very many people; that's their choice. I will say this, though: the faces that they present in public are not necessarily their true faces. I would think that you, of all people, could understand that."

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Vernon Boyd was not an idiot. He had noticed the attacks that had been happening recently, and had altered his nighttime routine accordingly. He had never been particularly close to Scott, Erica, or Isaac, but he didn't want anyone to get hurt, either. Including himself. His grandma counted on him to help her out, and he couldn't very well do that if he was dead.

So, he was being careful. It was just unfortunate for him that feral werewolves were rarely predictable.

He was attacked right outside the grocery store in the middle of the afternoon. One moment, he was loading his eggs into the car, and the next, his arm was being gnawed on by what he assumed was werewolf. Before he even had time to cry out, though, the beast was knocked away from him. He heard someone yell, “grab him”--McCall maybe--before he was rolled onto his back and found himself staring up into Lydia's concerned eyes.

"We've got you," she said simply. "This next part will take a little while; you can take a nap if you want."

Boyd closed his eyes.

He woke up hours later to three pairs of golden eyes staring at him. He panicked for a split second before remembering the attack and Lydia. He didn't recognize the house, but if the Stilinskis have him, he knew he'd be fine.

He drifted off again hoping that maybe they'd make him some of those awesome cookies like they brought to his birthday party in the fifth grade.

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While Boyd was busy joining the ranks of the supernatural, Jackson was trying to get up the courage to ask Stiles for permission to marry his sister. The fact the Stiles would definitely agree didn't make Jackson any less nervous, which was why Jackson had already been following the other man around all morning.

Despite what people thought about him, Stiles was pretty good at letting other people dole out information and their own pace. It was much more exciting, according to Stiles, to let people hang themselves than to drag it out of them. Informationally-speaking, of course.

Unfortunately, Jackson was doing a horrible job at hiding his anxiety, and he could tell that Stiles was starting to get impatient. The look that Stiles shot him when Jackson dragged him into the bakery clearly said that Jackson was out of time.

"Jackson. You know that I love you, but if don't tell me what's bothering you, I'm going to have to send you back to my sister in less than perfect condition," he warned after they were seated. He took an exaggerated bite of cake, clearly giving his friend time to organize his thoughts. "What's up?"

"I want to marry Lydia," he blurted.

"Of course you do. She's awesome."

"No!" At Stiles's angry look, he added, "Of course she's awesome. What I meant was, I wanted to get your permission before I ask Lydia to marry me."

"Seriously?" Jackson nodded. "Welcome to the family, man!" Stiles pulled the other man into a hug before pausing. He pulled back and stared Jackson in the eye. "Suggestion, though? Don't tell Lydia you asked me for permission."

Once Jackson had gotten that over with, the day afternoon got much easier. The boys stuffed their faces with insane amounts of cake in the name of wedding research until Jackson was sure he was about to go into a sugar coma. He was ready to suggest they head home when a familiar shadow fell over their table.

"Stiles," the hybrid purred, taking a seat next to the younger man. "What a lovely surprise. And Jackson."

"Klaus," Stiles said shortly. "I didn't know you liked sweets."

"Perhaps I simply wanted to see what you were up to."

"Oh, Klaus," Stiles waved his fork around. "Death by chocolate is as close as I've gotten to murder today, sorry to waste your time."

"I assure you, love,” the man purred, “I'm not about to waste time with you."

"Why? Do you have an important question for me as well?" he asked, gesturing at Jackson. "He's been following me around all day. Won't leave me alone."

The hybrid's eyes hardened. "We're all alone in the end, wouldn't you agree?"

"I think that depends on your definition of alone, doesn't it?"

Klaus gave the men a smile that was all teeth. "My dear husband seems to be succumbing to your charms, but I'm quite convinced that you and your sister are much more than you appear to me."

Stiles didn't even blink. "That may be true, but it doesn't make me a murderer."

"It doesn't make you innocent, either."

"You do know," Jackson interrupted, "that you're threatening the Sheriff's son in the middle of a busy bakery?" Stiles put a steadying hand on his friend's arm, and huffed out a laugh.

“I don't want to hurt you,” Klaus said, rising. "Just stay out of my way.”

"Well, that was both creepy and strangely endearing, don't you think?" Stiles queried after Niklaus was gone, before digging into yet another piece of cake.

Jackson snorted and resolved to talk with Lydia about Stiles's weirdly antagonistic courtship with the town's most dangerous couple as soon as possible.

<> <>

Later that night, Jackson became the alpha's fifth victim. As the claws sunk into Jackson's chest, he had two thoughts: one, if he lived, his parents would be thrilled with the status upgrade; two, Lydia was going to kill him.

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Stiles groaned as he sank into one of the plush chairs in the far corner of the bookstore. He and Lydia had spent most of the day in the basement of the public library with Zeus, but Lydia still couldn't get a feel for what they were doing in Beacon Hills. The pack was part of it, no doubt--hence the books on werewolves--but the feeling that had brought them here had never truly gone away.

The library didn't have what they needed, though, so while Lydia had gone back to the Hale house, Stiles had chosen the unenviable task of heading to the local bookstore and randomly searching whatever mystical texts they might offer, most of which would undoubtedly be less than reliable if the author “Rainbow Aura Lightwolf” on multiple spines was any indication. Not to mention the fact that Stiles couldn't just hover over a book and get a feel for it like his sister.

At least he wouldn't have to deal with Peter and Klaus.

Armed with a large coffee and the biggest brownie the café had to offer, Stiles commandeered a secluded corner and started reading his current stack of books.

_I Ching was...scholarly commentary and divination...across the Far East._

_The Wheel of Fortune represents situations in your life that are ending...new opportunities replacing them._

_...balance the vibrations of the body...emotional...nourishing, warm and protective._

_...demons can't escape the trap unless the circle is broken, and they cannot use their powers or break the circle while inside it._

Wait.

This last book definitely wasn't _Spencer's Mystical Guide to Flowers_ , like the cover claimed. Actually, why did Stiles pick up a book on flowers in the first place, and why did a book on flowers contain a remarkably accurate passage on Devil's traps? And, why was Stiles bothering to read it when he already knew about trapping demons and had the anti-possession tattoo to prove it?

Deciding that he was obviously delirious and that three hours was more than enough time for random searching, the spark started stacking his books to put away.

"Flying away again, little bird?"

Really? Was Stiles not allowed one night of peace without hot guys harassing him? "It's late, and I'm hungry, so can we get this over with?" he asked, turning to spy Peter and Klaus standing only a few feet away, all dressed up and looking like...

"Wait. Are you interrogating me in the middle of a date? I've got to say, that's dedication." He slung his bag over his shoulder and moved toward the door, only to be stopped by Peter's hand on his shoulder.

"We prefer to think of it as protecting our investment," Niklaus insisted, stepping forward to take the books from Stiles's arms. "You have a surprising number of people who are rather outspoken in their support of you." He chuckled. "I've had no fewer than three deputies threaten to arrest me for harassment--"

"Mr. and Mrs. Turner threatened to hex you," Peter added helpfully, laughing at his husband's scowl.

"And Bobby Finstock threatened to call my older sister on me," the hybrid said. "Freya was quite fond of your mother," he ended quietly.

"Look," Stiles began, unnerved by the men's change in behavior, "why don't you use those super senses for once, and tell me if I'm lying: I did not kill those people. I don't know who killed them."

Peter's eyes flashed, and Stiles groaned in exasperation. "You have an idea about who's responsible, though, don't you?" he questioned.

Stiles shrugged, readjusting his bag on his shoulder and subtly moving out of Peter's reach. "Maybe. But. My theory is still in development."

"You _are_ telling the truth about not killing those people," the werewolf admitted.

" _No_ , _really_?" He glared at the two men who, up to now, had done nothing but make his life harder. "Lydia and I are just trying to protect ourselves; maybe you should do the same." He was out the door before the men thought to stop him.

"He didn't tell us his theory," Peter complained, just as Klaus countered with, "Protect themselves from what?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

A week after Jackson was bitten, Lydia disappeared.

The two of them had been spending an insane amount of time together, between training Jackson to be a werewolf and planning the wedding of the century, which was why Stiles hadn't suspected anything at first.

The knot in his stomach started around 7:00. At first, Stiles put it off to the questionable sandwich from lunch, so he took a couple of antacids and went back to work. By 9:00, he was having trouble typing because his hands were shaking.

His first thought was to call Lydia, but she would make him suffer later if he interrupted her "private" engagement celebration with Jackson, so he put it off.

Thirty minutes later, his head started to throb, his hands began to sweat, and his heart was pounding like he was running a marathon.

Stiles fumbled with his phone, finally managing to dial his sister, his head suddenly throbbing even harder when she didn't answer. Not wanting to panic his dad unnecessarily, he dialed Jackson, hoping that Lydia was just ignoring him in favor of her boyfriend.

Thankfully, his future brother-in-law answered on the second ring. "Stiles? What's up?"

"Is Lydia with you?" he asked, a tad breathlessly.

"No, I'm at the Hale house, remember?" the werewolf reminded him.

Jackson's mom had pestered him until he agreed to visit the Hales and determine if he was a "good fit" for their pack. The fact that Joshua Hale, the alpha's older brother, was opposing his dad in court had absolutely nothing to do with the suggestion. Jackson had agreed just to pacify his parents, and because Lydia had encouraged it, even though everyone else knew he had no intention of joining the Hale pack.

"Is she with Cora?" Stiles asked, after a long moment.

"The whole Hale family is meeting with Klaus and Elijah about the murders."

"Okay," he answered quickly, and hung up before Jackson could respond.

Dread rolled through Stiles like a tidal wave. _He had to call his dad and tell him that Lydia was in trouble._

_He had to call Scott and tell him that Lydia was in trouble._

_He had to find Lydia._

Stiles could tell through their bond that she was still alive, but that didn't mean she wasn't seriously hurt.

Should he tell Jackson? The Hales? The past few weeks notwithstanding, the Stilinskis and the Hales had never been particularly close.

Besides, how could he explain knowing that his sister was in trouble? Wonder Twin powers? He could find Lydia himself, he was sure of it, but then their secret would be out, and every spark hunter within a thousand miles would be after them.

Peter would kill him for sure if he found out about Stiles's spark. Klaus would probably torture him first.

He took a few deep breaths, splashed some water on his face, and called his dad.

<> <>

Jackson couldn't put his weird conversation with Stiles out of his mind. Sure, Stiles was a little scattered in general, but Jackson had known the twins since kindergarten, and he knew that both of them liked to play down their strengths in front of most people: Lydia, by pretending to be clueless; and Stiles, by goofing off and talking in circles. So while most people would have brushed off the conversation as “Stiles being Stiles”, he knew that the conversation had been important, even if he didn't know why.

Lydia and Stiles were two of his best friends; didn't they know that he would drop everything to help them? Becoming a wolf hadn't changed his feelings; if anything, it had heightened them. In fact, every time Peter was rude to Stiles, Jackson had to fight back a snarl, regardless of the fact that Peter could easily kill him. And Lydia was the love of his life.

He'd just call Lydia and let her know that Stiles was looking for her.

_This is Lydia. Please leave a message after the beep._

He'd call Stiles.

_Hey, this is Stiles. I can't come to the phone, so leave me a message, and I'll call you back._

He tried Scott, the Sheriff, and Parrish; no one answered their phones. He even tried Melissa McCall, even though he knew that she was working that night.

By the time he finished, his heart felt like it was going to pound its way out of his chest. Something was wrong with either Lydia or Stiles or both, and he didn't know what it was or how he could help them!

He took a breath and focused like the twins had taught him when he’d first become a werewolf. _He_ _could_ _do_ _this_. He'd start at the Stilinski house and track the twins from there.

"Jackson, are you alright?" Elijah Mikaelson stepped down from where he had suddenly appeared on the porch, watching the younger man with concern. "I'm surprised the others haven't noticed the way your heart is pounding."

"Stiles called me. He was looking for Lydia, which is normal,” Jackson replied. Jackson had always liked the vampire; he had been one of the few people who had always treated the twins normally, even after their mother was killed.

"Then why are you so worried?"

Jackson vaguely noticed other people stepping outside, signaling the end of the meeting. He kept his focus on Elijah; he'd find out the various theories about the murders and the rogue alpha from Cora later. "He seemed off, so I tried to call him back, but he didn't answer."

"Perhaps Lydia returned," the Original countered calmly.

"I tried her first, actually, to let her know that _Stiles_ was worried. I called her, and Stiles, and Scott, and the Sheriff, and Parrish, and I even called Scott's mom. Nobody answered." He glared at the growing crowd, head still mostly down, daring someone to contradict him. "Something's wrong."

Nobody spoke. Jackson finally looked around, and was relieved to note that everyone looked at least vaguely concerned, and even Klaus looked like he was taking Jackson's feeling seriously.

Derek stepped through the crowd, cellphone in hand. "I'll call the station and see what I can find out," he said, disappearing back into the house.

Jackson didn't even realize that he was also moving until Elijah was pushing him down on the couch, the hand on his shoulder a comforting weight. Cora was holding his hand. He tried to smile--Cora was their friend, too. There was no need for both of them to be worried.

Derek came back a few minutes later, face set in a way that did not comfort Jackson at all. "Tara said that the Sheriff got a phone call about an hour ago. She said he seemed really upset, and then he left. He took Jordan with him. That's all she knew."

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One of the benefits of their four-person search party--Stiles, Scott, his dad, and Jordan--was that Stiles could freely use his abilities to find his sister. Regardless, the woods weren't an issue, because the twins could _always_ find each other. Lydia could be lost in the Amazon rainforest and Stiles could find her without fail, and vice-versa. The search would be even faster with an angel and a scrying crystal, but he didn't want to involve anyone else except in an emergency, especially without knowing exactly what was going on.

One of the downsides, of course, was that when people found out that the four of them were searching alone, the situation would look as sketchy as hell.

In retrospect, Stiles should have trusted his gut, and not called Jackson, but he had mostly been in denial at the time, and now Jackson knew that something was wrong. The other man would come looking for them eventually, Stiles knew, so he needed to find Lydia as quickly as possible.

Of course, if Jackson told Cora, Cora might tell the rest of the Hales, who might tell the Mikaelsons, making it _so_ _much_ _harder_ for them to hide. Things were the way they were for a reason--to ensure everyone's safety.

Stiles tried to push all of it away, to focus only on finding his sister, but he could tell by the grimace on Scott's face that he wasn't entirely successful.

"I don't think that Allison believed me when I told her I had a family emergency,” Scott said, walking with him as he searched for Lydia; Jordan and his dad were patrolling the edges of the woods, keeping out anyone who might interfere. His dad hated it, of course, letting Stiles and Scott go into danger without him, but he knew from experience that his kids moved much faster than normal when pulled by magic, and he didn't want to slow them down.

Stiles frowned. "You do have a family emergency. Lydia's missing, and you're our family."

Scott kept his senses open as they walked, on the lookout for anything that could threaten his friend, but took a moment to bump his shoulder companionably. "Her mom is starting to make noises about her getting into hunting,” he added, biting his lip.

"I know Allison wouldn't hurt me, Scott,” Stiles soothed. “She definitely wouldn't hurt Lydia. We trust you. You should worry about yourself."

"Yeah, I know. But her family is full of hunters, and their friends are hunters, and that's a lot of hunters." He spun Stiles around, pulling him into a tight hug. "I'll be fine, I've got the pack, so do you." He squeezed a little harder. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

After a bit more searching, the boys found Lydia unconscious, an obvious bite mark on her leg. She was sweaty and shaking, and Stiles suddenly wished he had the ability to teleport straight to the hospital. Stiles, albeit reluctantly, let Scott carry his sister back through the woods to his waiting jeep, and let Scott drive when Stiles's hand shook too much to get the key into the ignition.

Stiles kept one hand on his sister and used the other to text his dad to tell him to get to the hospital.

<> <>

Derek's phone rang a few minutes after midnight. All of the children had been sent to bed, but everyone else had been waiting in the living room since Derek made the call to the station. More than one member of the pack had offered to go out and try to find the Stilinskis, but Talia, as Alpha, had kept everyone home, refusing to let people leave without any reliable information about the situation.

Cora had given up her spot on the couch earlier, only for it to be taken up by Isaac, while Erica and Boyd sat on the floor in front of them, a buffer for Jackson from the rest of the room. Surprisingly, the trio had shown up shortly after the phone call, evidently sensing Jackson's distress, and seemingly unconcerned that they were walking into a different pack's territory.

Derek stepped out to take the call, while everyone else strained to hear the conversation. He came back, pulling on his jacket as he walked, and everyone tensed. "Lydia was attacked tonight. She and Stiles are both at the hospital. Evidently, Stiles and Scott went into the woods to find Lydia and then rushed her to the hospital without waiting for an ambulance. Stiles went into shock on the way there. Tara said the deputies are all taking turns sitting with them so John can get some sleep. I volunteered to go first."

"If Stiles and Scott went out alone, where did the Sheriff go?" Talia asked.

"They were already looking for Lydia when they called the station." The deputy chuckled. "I get the feeling that it was mostly a courtesy call anyway, since the boys left the Sheriff and Deputy Parrish wandering in the forest and texted them on the way to the hospital."

Jackson stood as Derek spoke, weaving a path from the couch to the door. "I'm going with you."

"We'll come first thing tomorrow," Erica said, motioning to the other two betas. "Cora, too."

Jackson just gave them a tired smile and followed Derek out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: Chapters 7-8, including a blatant reference to the third fandom for this story (though I haven't exactly been subtle with the clues thus far), and a Peter/Stiles fic.
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

Jonathan Stilinski hated hospitals. Even before his wife's murder, he had seen the inside of Beacon Hills Memorial too often during the course of his job to have any love for the place. Now, his job and his personal life had collided again in an awful way, resulting in both of his children being hospitalized. Lydia was apparently the sixth surviving victim of the rogue alpha that had been prowling the territory for the last two months; Stiles had succumbed to shock over dealing with his sister's injury. Even in shock, Stiles refused to leave Lydia alone, carefully crawling into bed with his sister and refusing to leave. Melissa had briefly come in and tutted at the boy, but didn't make him move. John was secretly glad that his kids were together and knew they healed better that way, anyway. At the moment, he was more worried about what would happen when Lydia's body neutralized the bite than by the non-existent possibility of Stiles accidentally hurting his sister.

Scott and Stiles finding Lydia would be easily enough explained; the town was well-aware of the boys' propensity for mischief, and wandering in the woods was something they had done many times before. It was entirely believable (and not entirely false) to say that the two had gone off on their own to search for Lydia--they _had_ started searching before John and Jordan had reached the woods, the two groups _hadn't_ searched together, and the boys had left them behind. The timeline between Stiles calling Scott and Stiles calling his dad was the only thing off, because Stiles hadn't called Scott first, but hopefully no one would look into it.

Very few things were immune to a werewolf bite, and the twins were definitely not demons or Original vampires. Most people wouldn't think of sparks either, because most sparks didn't survive the bite. In fact, there were only five spark-born shifters alive at the moment, and all of them also had fae blood somewhere in their family trees. Stiles and Lydia had no such lineage.

Of course, the knowledge that the twins had gathered about sparks in general was pretty mind-blowing. He had met some of the friends they’d made during their travels, and he couldn't deny the truth staring him in the face.

He was still trying to figure out how best to keep his children safe when Derek and Jackson appeared at the door.

"It's 1:00 in the morning boys, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to take first watch so you can get some sleep," Derek announced, manhandling his boss out of his chair.

Jackson, however, looked guilty. "Stiles called me earlier looking for Lydia," he admitted. "I should have known something was wrong."

"Nonsense. You have a lot on your mind right now, and you have to take care of yourself first."

Jackson snorted. "Yeah, because you Stilinskis are so good at putting yourselves first." He took a seat across from Derek. "Go home, Mr. Stilinski. I'll stay. I want to talk to Derek about werewolf stuff anyway, and I'll be sure to yell at them for you when they wake up."

<> <>

Derek and Jackson were still talking when Stiles stirred the next morning.

"Stiles," Derek called, relieved. Stiles's eyes fluttered once, twice, before opening. Otherwise, he didn't move.

"Stiles?"

Stiles blinked at them but didn't respond. It was unnerving, the blank look in his eyes as he stared straight through them.

Shaking off his discomfort, Jackson grabbed Stiles's hand. The other boy jumped a bit, but otherwise didn't acknowledge the werewolves at all.

"She'll wake up tomorrow," Stiles said softly instead, running his free hand up and down his sister's arm.

"She was bitten by a werewolf, Stiles," Derek explained gently, looking to Jackson for support. Stiles turned his blank eyes to Lydia. "She should have started turning by now." He doesn't finish the thought, knowing that Stiles would understand.

"She won't turn," he said again, finally looking at the werewolves. "She'll be better tomorrow."

Derek opened his mouth to speak again, but Jackson interrupted. "How do you know?"

Stiles smiled. "Magic."

Jackson and Derek were still trying to engage Stiles when the rest of the pack arrived a little later, Cora in tow. If any of them are unnerved by the other man's lack of conversation, they don't mention it, but Cora caught Derek's eye in concern, and Erica looked like she was seriously considering climbing into the already crowded bed.

It was only after Scott and the Sheriff arrived an hour later that things start to improve.

As soon as he walked into the room, Scott took note of blank-faced Stiles. "Dude, I'll bet you're craving sugar right now. I'll be right back," he said cheerfully, before stepping out to presumably head for the vending machine. The Sheriff, on the other hand, immediately moved to extricate Stiles's hand from Lydia's, ignoring the startled looks around him.

"I would have thought them touching would be a good thing," Jackson apologized.

"It is, until it isn't." His eyes lingered on the Hales for a moment before continuing. "Stiles and Lydia are...unique in many ways. It was part of the reason why they left for college, because they wanted to learn more about their magic. They--"

Scott returned, brandishing candy, soda, and a straw and the pack parted to let him near Stiles. Scott practically shoved the straw into his friend's mouth, holding it there until Stiles started to drink, slowly coming back to himself.

Stiles's eyes wandered the room before they landed on his father. "Sorry, Dad."

Scott handed him a candy bar to cheer him up.

"I'd ask you not to do it again, but we both know that's impossible." He pressed a kiss to his son's forehead. "I've got to get to work, but I'm sure Jordan will check on you later, and you've got enough visitors as it is."

<> <>

"Good morning, Mrs. Kourtesava," Lydia said pleasantly while Stiles took her arm to lead her across the street. "The trees are lovely, aren't they?" Peter watched the twins chat amicably with the old woman, though she never answered them. To everyone's surprise, the two of them had spent less than thirty-six hours in the hospital before they had been cleared for release. Lydia's injuries had been healed, but there was no sign of lycanthropy in her blood.

Derek had told the family about his odd conversation with Stiles, and it was agreed that such low-level skill that the twins possessed would not have affected such a rapid recovery, and of a rejected bite no less. Perhaps their genetic connection had briefly allowed Stiles to tap into his twin's magic as well as his own in a dire circumstance? It was yet another mystery that surrounded the Stilinski siblings that Peter and his husband intended to solve.

Now, the Hale pack enforcer was watching the two calmly interact with a known (if certifiably insane) killer. The former teacher had inexplicably murdered her husband--in what was later presumed to be demonic possession--and had gone quite mad afterward. The bleeding hearts of Beacon Hills had committed her only for a decade before setting for free. She had spent the last fifty years living off of the kindness of strangers and wandering town like a wraith.

Frankly, Peter thought the possession was a clever but convenient excuse. She wouldn't be the first person to react in a moment of rage and be consumed with guilt later.

Still, despite his opinion of the old woman, he couldn't stop his lips from curling into a small smile at the gallant way the young man moved to escort the elderly woman across the street.

<> <>

"To think," Stiles mused drily, "when we first got here we were going to fix the wards and get out. Now we have our very own werewolf family." He moved to the next set of runes, reinforcing the magic on the section they had completed last week, while Lydia moved to a new section. It was an easy and well-practiced partnership: she laid offensive runes, while he laid defensive ones.

"Stiles, look." Lydia's voice was breathy, gaze focused on the section they had finished earlier in the week.

There were Enochian sigils painted beneath every rune mark the twins had made, adding an extra, outer layer to the wards. Their last few sections of rune work had been completed as well, though in a different style, and the twins painstakingly checked the work to make sure that there was nothing in them that would harm the town or the people in it. There wasn't--the sigils were carefully and thoughtfully placed to amplify the strength of the existing wards. It was ingenious; unfortunately, the twins knew better than to simply accept the gift at face value.

The truth was, most angels that they had met had liked the Stilinski twins. At the very least, they seemed to find Lydia and Stiles cute in the same way that some people compulsively watched cat videos on the internet. That indulgence had helped them learn more about sparks, and, in one memorable instance, given them the tools to save a particularly famous angelic/demonic duo from rogue demons. That didn't mean that everything thereafter was sunshine and roses, however.

Hunters were still a problem for all sparks, and the twins feared that hunters would only redouble their efforts if they knew the connection between the Fall half a century ago, and sparks, so Gabriel had asked the Grigori to act as bodyguards of sorts for the more powerful sparks who were trying to remain hidden.

The sigils around the wards couldn't be a coincidence.

In all likelihood, the warding was a gift, but they needed to find the author as soon as possible to be sure.

"We're going to have to tell some people, aren't we?" Stiles sighed.

They had known this moment would come eventually, but still..."Let's call a pack meeting."

<> <>

_"Dicimus enim--"_

"None of that, please," she said, tightening her grip on the witch's throat. "It obviously didn't work out so well for your sisters." The bloody corpses littering the hallway were proof of that. She wasn't too upset, though. It was more fun when they resisted.

"Who are you? Why are you doing this?" the girl sobbed.

"Oh, honey. I hardly think that's important right now, do you?" The witch whimpered and tried to wiggle away, only to freeze when she touched the girl's hair. "If it makes you feel better, your blood is going to a very good cause." She lifted the dagger.

"Feel free to scream, if you want."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

Peter was extremely frustrated. When the twins had first returned to Beacon Hills, Stiles had seemed to be everywhere the werewolf had turned. Now, Stiles was avoiding them, past the point of all subtlety. Niklaus, who was equally as frustrated, had suggested that perhaps this was Stiles's way of getting revenge for their earlier behavior towards him, but Peter knew that Stiles had entirely too much of his parents in him to be that petty.

Cora, on the other hand, showed no such restraint. She made it a point to text with Lydia, Stiles, and their pack often while refusing to share any information she’d acquired with anyone other than Laura and Derek. Lucas and Sheriff Stilinski had reconnected and were now sharing Thursday lunch dates. Even Ellie had seen the twins during the weekly grocery run, and had spoken at length afterwards about Lydia's shiny engagement ring.

So, truly, it wasn't Peter's fault that the two of them were falling back into old habits. Niklaus and Peter were just happy that the twins' wolves were keeping the secret, even though they could undoubtedly smell that the men had been spending a lot of time around the Stilinski home.

Both twins tended to stay up unusually late, so Peter wasn't particularly alarmed the next time Stiles walked out of his home in the middle of the night. Both twins liked to wander aimlessly after dark--much to the irritation of anyone who came across them--seemingly oblivious to the dangers around them. "It was a pretty night," or "I wanted space to think," would be cold comforts to Jonathan Stilinski if something killed one of his children.

Peter had been following Stiles for close to an hour before he noticed it: the slow, almost robotic way that the young man was moving. Pushing down his sudden unease, the wolf moved closer to the other man, not bothering to hide his presence. "Stiles?"

Peter stepped in front of Stiles, but the other man simply stared sightlessly foreword, moving as if being pulled by an invisible string and looking through Peter as if he wasn't there at all. It sent a shiver down the wolf's spine. "Stiles? Can you hear me?" Nothing. He reached out and gently poked the younger man with his finger, expecting Stiles to spin around and call him a creeper. The man didn't move. Unsure for the first time in a long while, Peter called his husband. As soon as Klaus answered the phone, Peter said, "I need you," and hung up.

The wolf waited impatiently for his husband to arrive, hoping that he might have insight into the situation. The hybrid had been around for a millennia, after all. Both of them were still unsettled by the twins--Stiles specifically--but the werewolf found himself shaking with unease as he waited for Niklaus to find him. Stiles, for his part, did absolutely nothing. He stayed still, and quiet, and so unlike himself that Peter wanted to shake the other man. Was he sleepwalking? On drugs? Possessed? The wolf had a horrible thought: perhaps whatever was committing these crimes was using Stiles as an unwitting accomplice? A snarl burst out of the wolf's mouth at the thought of Stiles being in danger.

"I see you caught our little bird," Niklaus announced, approaching the other two from behind. He frowned when younger man didn't answer. "Don't be that way, Stiles," he pouted. "I'll only hurt you in the best of ways."

Part of Peter wanted to stop Klaus, to tell him what was going on. The other part held him in frozen fascination, wondering if the hybrid could reach Stiles where Peter could not. "Stiles?" There was a hint of concern now. No response. "Peter?"

"I thought he was just taking another midnight stroll," he gestured to the younger man. "He stopped when I called his name, but he hasn't so much as twitched since then." Niklaus was frowning openly now, taking in Stiles's grey pallor and blank expression.

"Let me take him home." The temperature had been dropping all night, and both men noticed that Stiles had begun to tremble, though the other man gave no indication of awareness. "I'll meet you at home. Afterward, we shall solve this mystery of our little bird." Klaus lifted Stiles into his arms and sped to the Stilinski home.

Klaus knew just as well as Peter about the twins' late hours, but he found himself hoping that the house would be dark, giving him an excuse to take Stiles to his house "for his own protection". It was almost 3:00 in the morning by the time Niklaus reached the Stilinski home, but the light was still on in Lydia's bedroom, forcing the hybrid to swallow his disappointment and knock at the door.

If Lydia Stilinski was at all concerned with her brother's sickly appearance, she gave no indication of it. Niklaus felt his eyebrows rising as the young woman eyed him with a blatantly judgemental look.

"You can put him down now." Niklaus hesitated. "On his feet. He'll be fine."

The hybrid set the still-unresponsive man on the ground, unconsciously reaching out to steady the spark when he swayed slightly.

"Are the two of you in danger?"

Lydia scoffed, but her smile was sad. "We're always in danger," she admitted, guiding her brother into their home. "Thank you for bringing him home," she said politely, just before she shut the door in his face.

<> <>

The first pack night after the twins' stay in the hospital was tense. In the hospital, Stiles had refused to talk about what had happened before Lydia woke up, which everyone generously accepted, knowing that Lydia was rejecting the bite. The pack had silently agreed to support Stiles in any way he needed after his sister passed, knowing that they might never know what had happened that night.

But, just as Stiles had said, Lydia was perfectly fine the next day.

Almost immediately after Lydia came around, and against the doctor's (and the pack's) objections, the twins went home.

For the rest of the week, the pack hovered around the Stilinski home, never letting either of the twins do anything that would be considered even remotely taxing, no matter how many times Stiles or Lydia complained. Boyd and Cora both brought food, Isaac provided reading material, Jackson quietly accepted his role as Lydia's body pillow, and Erica and Derek kept busybodies (and other Hales) away. The twins hadn't told the pack yet what landed them in the hospital, but the others seemed to be taking a "kill them with kindness" approach to the situation.

Until Saturday night, evidently.

The tension mounted steadily all throughout dinner, and by dessert time, conversation had mostly been reduced to grunts and glares, with Scott filling up all of the uneasy silences.

If Lydia and Stiles hadn't already planned on telling the pack the truth, dinner might have been uncomfortably emotional. As it was, the twins may have been enjoying the pack's pouting a little too much. It also had the benefit of giving them something to concentrate on other than _their_ nerves. After all, it wasn't easy sharing such an old secret.

Once dinner was through and everything settled in the kitchen, the Lydia herded everyone to the living room, giving Stiles a minute to compose himself before he joined the rest of them.

"There's something you all need to know if we're going to be a pack," Stiles said, thoughtlessly wringing his hands. "You can't tell anyone what we're about to tell you. Seriously. It's a matter of life and death."

"Does this have something to do with why you ended up in the hospital?" Isaac asked.

Stiles shrugged, but didn't answer. "If you decide you hate us afterwards, well..." Stiles let himself trail off, trying not to look nervous. He glanced at Lydia, who offered a tiny nod.

"Spit it out, Stilinskis."

"Everyone knows that our mom was killed by hunters who thought she was a spark."

"She wasn't though, right? I mean, if she wasn't powerful enough to...I'm so sorry--"

"Erica, let them finish," Boyd broke in quietly.

"She was protecting us," Lydia said firmly, willing them to understand. "The spell, it was designed to hide _us_ from the hunters."

Lydia could tell the moment they started to understand. Derek, who had been staring thoughtfully at the floor, threw his head up so quickly Lydia was afraid he'd give himself whiplash. His gaze swerved from Lydia to Stiles and back, his eyes wide.

Erica gasped, Boyd tensed, and Jackson stared at them as if he'd never seen them before.

Isaac spoke. "One of you--"

Lydia shook her head.

"Both of you," Isaac gasped, "both of you are sparks? That's impossible."

"It really isn't," Lydia said.

"After mom died, it was safer if no one really paid any attention to us, which didn't entirely work, but--"

"Does Jordan know?" Derek asked curiously.

Stiles grimaced, but nodded. "Lydia saved his life once."

"What were you really doing while you were gone?" Isaac asked.

"We went to college," Stiles answered. "But we also traveled and studied as much about sparks as we could without outing ourselves."

"Are you dangerous?"

Both Stiles and Lydia visibly flinched, and multiple glares snapped in Erica's direction.

"Not to you,” Stiles said quietly.

"Why did you come back?" Cora wondered.

"I felt the pull," Lydia answered simply, which meant nothing to the pack. She stared pleadingly at the Hales. "I know we're asking a lot, but please don't tell your pack our secret."

Both Derek and Cora looked at Lydia like she was crazy. "Of course we won't," Cora scoffed, while Derek pulled Stiles into a hug. That movement triggered the rest of them, and ten minutes later, the twins had overly affectionate werewolves hanging off of them. Everyone cried.

After the crying slowed to the occasional sniffle, Jackson spoke. "So all of those times that my parents insulted you and your magic, you could have melted their brains?"

Lydia hummed, consideringly. "Maybe?"

The werewolf's face lit up. "I love you so much," he said, pulling Lydia forward until she relaxed into him. "No matter what."

Hours later, when everyone had left except for Scott, the two friends worked quickly to clean up the rest of the mess. Stiles could tell that Scott has something on his mind, but he didn't push, knowing that his friend would speak up eventually.

Finally, Scott took a deep breath and turned to his best friend. “What if whoever is committing these murders is after you?”

Stiles sucked in a breath, because this is not the conversation he thought they had been getting ready to have. He had assumed that Scott was going to ask about Klaus or Peter, not point out the axe hanging over their heads. He was honestly surprised that no one had put it together earlier that night. There was actually a bet between he and Lydia about who would figure it out first: Boyd or Jackson.

Lydia put $50 on Boyd.

"The other night when Lydia and I went out to finish the wards, someone had finished them for us, and then layered them with Enochian sigils."

Scott paused in his cleaning. "What does that mean? Who would've…?”

"We don't know, but it doesn't have to be an angel. Lots of demons know Enochian, so do a handful of humans. Lydia and I added extra precautions so that we could disable the sigils if necessary, but we don't need either side bringing attention to Beacon Hills."

"Or to you," Scott added pointedly. "You do know that the pack would fight for you, and everyone at the station, and the Hales, and half of the town?" Scott asked curiously. "Not to mention your boyfriends."

It was nice of Scott to say, but--"First of all, they're not my boyfriends."

"I noticed you didn't have to ask who I was talking about," Scott smirked.

"Second," Stiles ignored Scott, "neither one of them can stand me. Peter looks at me like he wants to rip my throat out, and Klaus stares like he wants to eat me. It's a little too 'hold me, thrill me, kiss me, kill me' for my tastes."

"Klaus flirts with you constantly."

"Yeah, like he's sizing up his prey which, in this case, is me."

Scott sighed. "I just think that they could help protect you, is all."

Stiles shook his head, but didn't completely disagree. And if he sort of wanted their protection, well, that was _his_ business, wasn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: Chapters 9-10, and an unrelated fic with Stiles, Lydia and Elijah.
> 
> For those of you who read my notes and remember that I promised a third fandom, I think the hints are pretty blatant at this point, but I won't update the tags until the characters in question actually make an appearance.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

Lydia huffed in irritation as her brother looked over the youngest Hale. Ellie's golden hair was matted with sweat and her normally pink cheeks were pale, but in true Hale fashion she didn't so much as flinch when Stiles pulled her shirt aside to look at the wound. Lydia thanked the heavens for her powers right now, because they guaranteed that there were no other Hales in sight.

Lydia had felt the pull an hour ago, in the middle of a movie with Scott and Stiles, and they had made it to the preserve just in time to see the seven-year-old attacked by the same wolf that had gone after Lydia and the others.

With no hesitation, Scott charged at the creature, knocking it away from the girl and giving Lydia a chance to lay down the mountain ash, while Stiles ran his hands carefully over her torso. Ellie let out a whimper.

"I don't want to be a werewolf. I want to stay like Daddy,” she cried.

"I know, baby," Stiles soothed, squeezing her hand. "Be strong for me."

The two sparks ignored the sounds of fighting as best they could and focused on the injured child. Suddenly, the Alpha let out a roar and, vaulting over Scott, charged the circle. Without thinking, Stiles threw his hands up to ward off the blow--only to breathe a sigh of half-relief, half-incredulity when he realized the creature was nowhere to be found. Fortunately, this wasn't the first time a monster had vanished on him, so he managed pushed the surprise aside; he'd freak out about disappearing rogues later.

"Where'd it go?" Scott asked groggily. Stiles shrugged and turned back to Ellie.

"Ellie, sweetheart, I'm going to help you feel better, okay? I just need to to stay as still as you can. Lydia here is going to hold your hand."

"Stiles--"

"No, Lydia. One of us needs to be at one hundred percent in case it comes back." His sister frowned, but didn't argue. They both knew that wherever that werewolf had gone, it was never coming back. If they were right about the possibility of demons in the area, though, they couldn't be too careful.

"Okay," Stiles said, shooting the girl his most dazzling smile, "this is going to feel a bit weird, but I promise you'll feel better when I'm done.”

Stiles cupped his hands over the wound and closed his eyes. For a few moments, nothing happened, and then Ellie arched up off the ground like she had been struck by lightning, her face scrunched up in pain. Within seconds, the feeling transferred from Ellie to Stiles, and the spark swallowed his screams as he writhed on the ground. Just as quickly as it had started, the pain ended, leaving Stiles breathless. Crisis averted, but he would definitely be feeling this later.

"Mr. Stiles, are you okay? Please don't be sick." She surged forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. They stayed like that for a while, Ellie curled into Stiles's chest, Stiles pale and drawn, both of them shaking.

"Ellie, honey, I need you to do me a favor." Lydia drew the girl out of her brother's lap and into her own. "You have to keep what happened a secret, please."

"Not forever, though, right?" Because Ellie needed to tell everyone how awesome Mr. Stiles and Mr. Scott and Ms. Lydia were, and how she didn't have to be a werewolf because Mr. Stiles had helped her.

"Not forever," Lydia agreed softly.

With Ellie out of his lap, Stiles let himself fall backwards against a tree. "Nobody freak out," he breathed, "but I'm going to pass out. Scott, take me home. Ellie? You did great." He closed his eyes.

"Is he going to be okay?" the girl asked. "We can take him to Dr. Deaton. He's magic, too."

Scott ruffled her hair. "You know when you get sick, and you want to sleep for a long time? That's what Stiles is going to do. He’ll be okay." He bent and carefully lifted his best friend into his arms. "I'll get him home."

"Promise me, Scott. You won't leave him for anything."

Everyone jumped when they heard the crunch of leaves a few yards away. "Ellie! Where are you?" a man's voice called.

"Of course not,” Scott promised Lydia, bringing attention back to him. “He's my brother." He gave both ladies a quick peck on the cheek before running away, just in time for Peter, Klaus, and Elijah to enter the clearing.

The trio froze, and Lydia could tell that they could smell the blood; hell, the vampires could probably _see_ it.

Nobody moved.

Ellie, oblivious to the tension about the adults, waved maniacally at her uncles. "Hi, Uncle Peter! Hi, Uncle Klaus! Hi, Uncle Elijah! Sorry I got lost. Are we going home now? I need to make some chicken soup." She let Peter scoop her up into his arms and affectionately looped her arms around his neck.

"Why do you need to make chicken soup?" Klaus asked, his eyes never leaving Lydia. He could smell at least three types of blood, and none of them came from the woman in front of him.

"Because that's what you do for sick people, silly," she chided, magnanimously letting her relieved uncles scent mark her. "Wait, wait. Put me down," she said, squirming when she realized that her Uncle Peter was about to take her home without thanking Lydia. The moment her feet touched the ground, she ran back toward the woman, arms outstretched. "Thank you for finding me,” she said, giving Lydia a hug and a smacking kiss on the cheek.

Once the girl was safely back in his arms, Peter took another moment to stare at the woman in the clearing before he and Klaus reluctantly turned for home. As much as they wanted to stay and have their first real chat with Lydia Stilinski, family came first, and Ellie needed their attention. Elijah would have to tell them later how this confrontation panned out.

Lydia and Elijah waited in silence until the preserve was empty of interested ears.

"Are you going to tell me what happened here, or must I guess?" the vampire asked placidly.

Lydia shrugged. "She's a cute kid. I'd say she shouldn't be wandering around in the woods, but everyone knows that Stiles and I do it all the time."

"And the blood?"

She met the vampire's gaze evenly. "The rogue werewolf won't be a problem anymore."

Elijah nodded, having expected that answer. The Stilinski twins were many things, but helpless was not one of them. "They don't trust you." He meant his brother and Peter, who had made an already volatile situation worse in antagonizing the twins.

Lydia nodded in acquiescence. "Normally, that wouldn't be a problem, except I'm pretty sure that my brother, and yours, and Peter, are meant to be together."

The vampire agreed, though he wouldn't say as such to his brother and Peter. "He'll need to be strong to deal with those two." Elijah had no doubts that the younger man could handle the pressure of such a union.

The young woman laughed and shook her head. "People always think that I'm stronger than than my brother, but that's simply because he's better at pretending than me. Stiles has always been stronger of us, more willing to help other people. I care about Stiles, and our dad, and Scott and Jackson. The rest of the world could burn, for all I care." She paused, watching Elijah carefully. "After all, that's what sparks do best, isn't it?"

The vampire didn't even blink, confirming her suspicion that Elijah knew at least part of their secret. She knew that he would keep it, too. "You must be very powerful to have hidden yourselves for so long," he commented.

"People around here tend to bite first and ask questions later. And hunters aren't much better."

"The Argents are good people," Elijah offered.

"That may be, but there are only three of them, and spark hunters don't usually play by the rules. There's no guarantee that the Argents could protect us if it came to that," she said, glancing down at her bloody outfit, and then back to Elijah. "Stiles will fight for people simply because they need him. That's why he needs Niklaus and Peter, because my brother deserves someone who is willing to fight for him just as much as he fights for them. Don't let them screw this up.”

<> <>

By the time Scott had gotten Stiles home, the werewolf had started to panic. Usually when Stiles healed people, he slept for a day or two before waking up as good as new. He was exhausted, but otherwise normal. This time, Stiles's heart was beating sluggishly, tripping every few beats, and his skin was clammy in a way that Scott didn't like.

As soon as Scott had settled Stiles in bed, Scott called his mom for help. Fifteen minutes later, Melissa McCall raced into the house and up the stairs, barely taking the time to greet her son before the McCalls hurried to Stiles's room.

They were stopped just outside the door by the sight of an unfamiliar woman leaning over Stiles.

She looked human, with dirty blonde hair and deep brown eyes, wearing jeans and a faded T-shirt, but Scott didn't hesitate to throw his arm out to keep his mom from entering the room.

"Who are you?" Melissa asked accusingly, eyes focused on the boy before her. "What are you doing with Stiles?"

"You may call me Ava." She moved just far enough away from Stiles for Scott to get a good look at him. Stiles looked even worse than when Scott had left him, but he was still breathing. "I'm here to heal him.”

"How do you know Stiles?"

"We've never met," she said, her mouth curving up just slightly. "I'm not one for company."

"What's wrong with him?" Melissa's concern for Stiles far outweighed her fear of the strange woman and she was again trying to get into the bedroom.

Ava raised her eyebrows as if she didn't understand the question. "He did more impossible things today than usual." As if that were normal, Scott thought, though maybe the impossible was normal for angels? "I was quite pleased to get in through the wards,” she added.

"Come,” she ordered, gesturing for Scott to come closer. "You will help me. As he saved you, yes?"

Scott hesitated, glancing sideways at his mother. He would do anything for Stiles; he just wished it didn't involve telling this particular story.

"You'll give back the spark he gave. You have your own magic now."

Understanding dawned. "You mean the wolf."

"What do you mean, when Stiles saved you?" his mom demanded. "When exactly did Stiles need to save you?"

Scott thought about naming any number of times that Stiles had saved him: from bullies, from asthma attacks, from rogue wolves, but if Stiles and Lydia's secret was coming out, they would need all the support they could get. "Remember that time when the Preserve was closed for a week because of that mountain lion? Right after Mrs. Stilinski died?"

The Hales had hunted that cat for a week, and had been outrageously offended that they never found it. It was still mentioned at family gatherings, all these years later.

"Stiles needed to get away, and so we went walking, and we found it. Or it found us, I guess. It attacked me. There was blood and I was dizzy, and then Stiles had his hands on my stomach, and it was like electricity..." His mom had paled, her eyes wide as he spoke. "He healed me.”

"I don't know what happened to the mountain lion, Stiles never said. He might not know; their power is like that sometimes. I was fine, though, so we didn't say anything. That weekend I spent the night at their house and they told me everything."

Melissa gaped at her son. "You're telling me that Stiles and Lydia are both sparks, and are friends with angels?"

"Yeah? I mean, Ava is the first angel I've ever met, so--"

"That you know of," the angel teased with a grin.

Scott let Ava guide him next to Stiles, while his mom hovered at the foot of the bed. The angel took Scott's hand and placed it on Stiles’s heart. "This is the truth of all sparks, no matter their inner strength. Most are just tiny little flames, flickering in the wind." Her fingers brushed Stiles's cheek before she set her hand on his head. "They," she nodded towards Stiles, "are bonfires lighting up the night for all to see."

The pain was so sudden that Scott didn't even have time to scream. It sliced through him, but all he could focus on was the light moving from Ava's hand to his friend's head.

Only his mom's arms kept him from slumping forward on top of Stiles after it was over, and he let himself be positioned on the bed next to his friend. It was a tight fit, but nothing the two of them hadn't done countless times before. He thought he heard a soft voice above him, and he managed to slur out a "thank you" to the angel before slipping into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

Peter didn't realize he had taken his niece to his own home instead of her parents' house until he was pulling the makings of hot chocolate out of his cabinet. Klaus either hadn't noticed or didn't care about his choice, deciding instead to sit next to his niece and watch the both of them with a blank face. Ellie watched her uncles from the barstool, tapping her fingers restlessly on the countertop.

"Uncle Elijah isn't going to hurt Ms. Lydia, is he?" she asked, taking a sip of her drink.

"If she hurt you, you can tell us," Peter encouraged. Ellie didn't have a mark on her, but both he and Klaus had smelled the blood, and were dying to know just what had happened in the woods. The scene they’d found didn't make sense, just like the Stilinskis in general. Peter hoped, for Stiles's sake, that he wouldn't have to kill his sister.

Ellie shook her head. "She saved me."  
  
"Ellie, what happened out in the woods?"

She hesitated, and took another drink instead of answering. She knew her uncles only wanted to protect her, but she had made a promise to Stiles and Lydia. "I can't tell you, I promised."

The men exchanged glances, and tried a different tactic.

"Sweetheart, it's dangerous to go into the woods right now. I know your mother told you about the omega, right?"

"But we don't have to worry about that anymore,” she said simply.

"Why not?"

"Because Mr. Stiles sent it away."

Klaus frowned. He hadn't smelled Stiles in that clearing. Come to think of it, he hadn't smelled Lydia, either. Who had clearly been _in the clearing_ when they arrived. The area had reeked entirely of magic and blood.

"What do you mean, Stiles sent it away?" Peter asked.

Ellie shot them an exasperated look. "He went 'poof' with his hands," she made some complicated gesture, "and it wasn't there anymore." Her hand absently drifted down to her side.

"Ellie," Klaus asked, watching the motion, "did the wolf bite you?"

The girl paled, and shook her head.

"It's okay, sweetheart. You don't have to lie. Your mother won't be upset--"

Ellie vaulted out of the chair and down the hallway to the guest bedroom, landing on the bed with a thump and pulling the blanket over her head. It wouldn't stop her uncles forever, but maybe she could pretend to take a nap--

She felt them settle on either side of the bed and sighed. The blanket was slowly pulled away until her head was poking out of the covers and her uncles were watching her with sad eyes. "Don't worry, I'm fine."

"If the wolf bit you--"

"Can you keep a secret?" Ellie was pretty sure that they could, and everyone knew that Uncle Klaus and Uncle Peter liked Mr. Stiles, and they were really good at secrets, but she had to be sure. "It's really important."

They nodded, but didn't interrupt.

"I know I shouldn't have been walking by myself, but the sunset was so pretty though the trees and I wasn't going to go far. I told them I wanted to stay human, and I did." She glared at them defiantly, daring them to contradict her, though the effect was somewhat diminished by her blanket burrito.

For nearly a minute, the only sound in the room was breathing, because what Ellie had suggested the Stilinskis had done was impossible. "You're saying that Lydia took the wolf back out of you?" Niklaus asked incredulously. Peter knew his own face must have mirrored the hybrid's shock.

"No,” she shook her head. “Mr. Stiles. It made him really tired. That's why I need to make him some soup, so he can feel better." She bit her lip. "You're not going to tell, are you?"

Peter recovered just enough to promise Ellie that they would keep the secret before the two of them numbly moved to the study where Elijah was waiting.

"Talia will be by in an hour," he announced without preamble.

"How much did you hear?" Peter asked, sinking tiredly onto the sofa. Klaus sat next to him and placed a supporting hand on his thigh.

"Enough, though I've learned not to be surprised by anything the twins do." He looked at Niklaus. "Claudia Stilinski was a very skilled, intuitive witch; she liked to tweak spells and try new things." He glanced at Peter, who was nodding, fondly remembering her penchant for experimentation. Niklaus had never met the woman, but had heard the story. "Everyone assumed that when the hunters came, Claudia miscast the spell to hide her magic, creating a false positive for a spark."

"What's your point, brother?"

"She did it deliberately to hide her children's sparks."

The knowledge dropped into place like a bomb. Niklaus had no reference for Stiles beyond the recent months, but Peter remembered dozens of tiny things, easily overlooked at the time, that pointed to the twins’ power. For Stiles, a nervous twitch could easily hide a flick of the wrist. For Lydia, a flip of the hair to draw a person's eye. So carefully had they built their personas that even Peter had believed them. Too well. " _Both_ of them are sparks?"

"The most powerful sparks alive, or so I am told." The look he shot them clearly said not to ask about the informant.

"How long have you known this?"

"I suspected when they left, but Lydia confirmed it during our chat earlier. Their mother died to protect their secret," he said sharply. "I won't betray her memory, and neither will you."

The men exchanged glances. "I think we need to speak to Stiles," Peter announced finally. "Shall we make soup?"

<> <>

Peter was talking, or rather, reading as soon as Stiles opened the door.  _"The primrose, or English primrose, is a truly fascinating and edible plant. Symbolically, give this flower to someone you truly love and can't live without,"_ he read. Stiles did a double-take as he noticed the cover of Peter's book. Wasn't that the fake flower book from the bookstore?

Klaus thrust a small, purple bouquet into his hands. The look on his face could maybe, in the right light, be considered a smile.

"What?" Stiles asked flatly.

"We heard you were sick." Peter tucked the book away somewhere, pulled out a rather heavenly-smelling container of chicken soup, and promptly sidestepped Stiles to enter the house.

Slightly dazed by the sudden display of affection, Stiles turned and invited Klaus in.

"Are you guys possessed?” he asked, after finding himself uncomfortably bracketed by the two men on the sofa. "Do I need to call Talia? Or an exorcist? Or both?"

“You know that we find you interesting, Stiles,” Peter chided, lightly brushing the other man’s arm. Stiles jumped, but resisted the urge to move away.

“I've always thought that was more of a clinical interest than a romantic one. You know, the way a lion watches a gazelle.”

“You _are_ very striking,” Klaus agreed.

“That didn't matter when you wanted to kill me.”

“Nonsense. We can find you attractive and still want to kill you.” A hand inched towards his thigh, and Stiles shivered.

Stiles gave an unhappy laugh and moved away from the two men and toward the kitchen. He had no idea what game they were playing, but he wasn't going to let them emotionally manipulate him. “I didn't know you cared,” he said pointedly, rummaging around for a glass.

Unfortunately, Niklaus and Peter were undeterred. "This may come as a surprise to you, but were are not terribly good people,” Klaus replied, brushing past Stiles for a bowl. “But _you_ are intelligent and and loyal, and those are qualities that Peter and I respect.” He pushed the soup in front of Stiles. “I find that, perhaps _because_ of your obstinence, you are quite irresistible.”

Despite the fabulous smell wafting from the bowl, Stiles didn't touch the soup. “Why?” he asked.

“Ellie told us what you did," Peter said. Judging by their stares, that wasn't all that they knew.

“Oh.” He should have known that the attraction thing was just an act. "You must feel pretty stupid right now, asking all the right questions at all the wrong times,” he scoffed. “You thought I was bad in a delinquent kind of way, not in a potentially apocalyptic way.”

"Stiles--"

"Don't, Peter."

Before Stiles could get another word out Peter was backing Stiles into the counter, kissing him furiously, one hand on his waist and a knee shoved between his thighs.

It was everything the spark wanted, if only it was real. "Back off, get away from me," he said, putting his hands on the wolf's chest and pushing him away.

Peter paused, giving him a searching look. “We want to take care of you, Stiles. Whether you like it or not.”

“Oh, really?" The young man didn't bother to keep the disbelief out of his voice. "Since when?”

“Since we learned who you really are.” Klaus placed a comforting hand on the small on Stiles's back, but the younger man shot him a glare and stepped away.

Stiles opened his mouth to call the pair out on their stupid reasoning when his phone rang. “Jordan? Is everything okay?” He stepped away from the other men's wandering hands and focused on the deputy. “Jordan? Is Dad okay?” Both Klaus and Peter stilled at his question, but Stiles only vaguely noticed them. His head suddenly felt too big and too small and he had to force himself to listen to Jordan’s words.

“Your dad took Tara’s patrol because she got sick. He didn't come back when he was supposed to and we found the car abandoned near the preserve. I’m already on my way out to the Hale house to talk to Lydia,” he added, because that would have been Stiles’s next question. “There wasn't any blood or signs of a struggle.”

Stiles felt marginally better at the news. “Thank you, Jordan.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Get him back, of course.”

“Stiles, don't do anything drastic,” the deputy warned him. “Do you know who took him?”

“No, but I know who to ask,” he said, and hung up.

Stiles turned back to the other men, who were watching him with open concern. “We can help--”

“No,” he said shortly, “you really can't, and I really should have known better than to let myself think that you could. I have to go. Just--” He took a half-step, stopped, and then reached out and pulled Klaus into a tight hug. He waited a moment before stepping back and doing the same to Peter.

Peter grabbed for his wrist as he pulled away. “Let us help you. Please.”

The spark watched them sadly before he turned and walked out the door. “Maybe someday,” he replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: the final two chapters of this fic and another Peter/Stiles fic. 
> 
> See you then, and thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things to know: In case you didn't notice, the tags have now been updated. Also, I couldn't get the timelines for Teen Wolf and Supernatural to work together, so basically, the fall of the angels in Supernatural happened about fifty years before the events in this story, and Sam and Dean have basically beaten death altogether. Everything else is AU for Supernatural.

Lydia was done.

As soon as Jordan had shown up in the middle of dinner, she knew that everything she and Stiles had worked for was about to end. Whoever had taken their dad was going to suffer slowly and painfully, no matter who the twins had to go through to make it happen.

Unfortunately, Stiles wasn't answering his phone, which left one of two options: either Stiles was missing as well, or someone was keeping an eye on him.

Lydia turned to the sky, and, ignoring the alarmed faces of everyone around her, yelled irritably, "Crowley, don't make me summon you!" More than one person gasped when a man dressed entirely in black appeared a few seconds later.

"What's the rush, sweetheart?” the man asked, straightening his tie and ignoring the growling around him. "Is this Beacon Hills? It's very...quaint."

"Is Stiles with you?"

"The hounds took him out for a run,” the demon admitted, grinning while Lydia rolled her eyes. He glanced over at Jordan at twitched in surprise. "How interesting. Do you know your parentage?"

"This is not the time," Lydia gritted out, drawing the demon's attention back away from the deputy. "We just want to find our dad."

"I know, darling. Let's go wrangle your brother from the jaws of hell," he said drolly, while Lydia smothered a laugh at the sounds of outrage around them, "and perhaps we'll hunt down some of your more angelic friends as well, and we'll turn it into one, big, happy family outing." He reached for her arm, only to be stopped by a voice.

"Wait!" Jackson reached forward to grab his fiancé's hand, the rest of their pack close behind. He gestured inquiringly toward Crowley. "Who is this guy, and where are we going?"

" _We_?"

Lydia fought not to roll her eyes a second time. "Crowley, this is Jackson. And the rest of our pack." At Crowley's curious look, she added, "it's a long story."

"Jackson. I've heard a lot about you." He moved toward the rest of the pack, silently judging them while the young wolves fidgeted under his gaze. "What an adorable group of werewolves," he said finally. "And you must be Scott," he said, turning slightly. "I'd recognize the crooked jaw anywhere."

"Take us with you," Scott asked, pulling out his sad eyes. "Please."

"Did you teach him that?” the demon asked Lydia. “I think I'm going to be sick."

Naturally, Lydia just laughed at him.

"Sorry, kids, you can't come with us." He offered a gentlemanly arm to Lydia, and she threaded her arm through his. "We'll go rescue the Sheriff, and then deal with your unfortunate demon problem."

They were gone before the shouting began.

<> <>

While those left behind in the Hale yard started arguing, two figures watched them curiously from the trees. This business with the Stilinski twins was causing quite a stir among both angels and demons, and Castiel had asked the two of them to keep an eye on the town while Stiles and Lydia were away.

The drama from the werewolves was just a bonus.

Most of the gossip between the angelic and demonic planes right now was betting about who was stupid enough to abduct Jonathan Stilinski, and precisely how many pieces would be left of the abductor when the twins finished with him. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that the Winchesters would let them have their justice, although everyone knew that Stiles and Lydia would do what they liked regardless of the brothers’ wishes, anyway.

"Are they trying to get those kids to pull a _Carrie_?” the angelic watcher asked from his hiding spot. “Everyone with two brain cells knows better than to touch their father."

"It's not us. It's hunters," Meg defended. “Well,” she amended slightly, “hunters controlling demons, so we’re not at fault, here.”

"Oh, it's suicidal morons, then." Balthazar tipped an imaginary hat in the demon's direction. "They'll be coming your way, no doubt."

Meg shrugged, not bothering to mention that demons were already jockeying in Hell to be the first to “greet” their incoming arrivals. "Anyway,” she said, changing the subject, “at least the twins have some protection now. A pack."

"Not them, I hope," the angel said, gesturing disdainfully at the Hales.

“No, although they _do_ make decent allies. And, in their defense, the twins have done an excellent job of hiding their true selves from absolutely everyone."

Balthazar laughed gleefully at the prospect of the twins showing their true selves to the rest of this insignificant town. “These next few months are going to be so exciting.”

<> <>

Stiles's phone rang suddenly, briefly cutting through the yelling, and Scott sent a quick thanks to heaven for the rescue--until he saw who was calling.

 _Dean_.

Not now, he thought with a groan. Could things get any worse? The Sheriff had been kidnapped, Stiles had run off in the middle of a date, and Lydia had disappeared with some strange demon. Everyone was growling, or arguing, or both, and while it was kind of funny to watch Klaus threaten people on Stiles's behalf, it wasn't exactly productive.

The phone started ringing again, and Scott could feel the irritation level rise among the wolves. He considered his options. If he ignored it, Dean would keep calling until he got worried and then he, Sam, and Cas (at the very least) would literally pop in and cause a scene. If he answered it, Dean would know immediately that something was wrong and freak out and they'd still show up in Beacon Hills.

In short, Scott was screwed.

"Are you going to answer that?" Laura asked irritably as the phone started ringing for the third time.

"I don't think I should. It's Stiles's phone, after all--"

"It may be someone who can help us find them," Cora pressed. "Answer it."

Behind the twins’ friend, Peter and Niklaus exchanged looks. Why was Scott so hesitant to answer the phone? The ringing started on its fourth cycle.

"For the love of all that's holy,” Laura growled, “answer the damn phone!"

Well, now that absolutely everyone was watching…Scott very reluctantly answered the phone. "Hi, Dean."

"Scott, why are you answering Stiles's phone?" All of the wolves could hear the suspicion coloring the gruff voice on the end of the line. "Nevermind. Let me talk to him or Lydia."

"They're...out of town right now."

"Fine, let me talk to their dad."

"He's not here, either."

"Scott, I'm going to ask you again. Why do you have Stiles's phone?" When Scott hesitated for too long, Dean swore. "We'll be right there,” he announced, and hung up before the younger man could respond.

"What does he mean, they'll be right here? Who was that, anyway?"

Seconds later, Sam, Dean, Cas, and Gabriel appeared in the Hales’ front yard, sending multiple werewolves jumping back in alarm. Claws came out and growling began, until a flick of the wrist momentarily stole everyone's voices. Gabriel smirked at the ensuing silence.

Niklaus snarled, but didn't move against the new arrivals. "If it isn't the Winchesters and their pet angels,” he spat. “I thought you died decades ago."

"We got better," Dean replied, holding the Original's gaze. "What's your excuse?"

"What would bring the world's most notorious hunters to our door?"

"Don't worry, puppies," Gabriel said, leaning nonchalantly against an invisible post and ignoring the way Dean and Niklaus were trying to stare each other down, "we're not here for you."

Sam, fortunately, zoomed in on Scott and got down to business. "Scott, where are Lydia and Stiles?"

"I told you, this town can't even protect them properly,” the archangel complained when Scott only squeaked in response to Sam’s question. “When this is over, we'll take them to a nice tropical island for a long vacation. We'll bring their dad and we’ll all drink things with those tiny umbrellas in them.”

“Excuse me,” Talia’s voice cut across the yard, "but who are you, and why are you trespassing on our land?”

“What do you want with the Stilinskis?” Laura added.

“If you've harmed them--” Niklaus began.

“You’ll what?” Gabriel countered, but backed off when Castiel shot him a look.

“These are Sam and Dean Winchester,” Castiel introduced, motioning to the brothers, “this is Gabriel, and I am Castiel. We are angels of the Lord.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You know, you really don't have to announce that every time?” He ignored the suspicious looks coming from the Hales and Mikaelsons and focused on Scott. “Tell us what happened.”

“The Sheriff was kidnapped, and Lydia and Stiles went after him with some demon named Crowley,” Scott said slowly before immediately ducking behind a still-bewildered Jackson.

Rather than get upset at the information that the twins were with a demon, though, the Winchesters seemed relieved. “He’ll keep an eye on them at least.”

“You're not concerned that the twins are with a demon?” Talia asked curiously.

Sam shrugged. “Lydia alone is more devious than two-thirds of the demons in hell, and Stiles has a ongoing chess game with Crowley, which, according to Crowley, is the most fun he’s had since the Salem Witch Trials, so...no.”

“Stiles is well-known for feeding the hellhounds candy and giving them names like Bernard and Fluffy,” Castiel added solemnly. “They adore him, and would likely follow him around on this plane if it would not result in many unfortunate and unexplained deaths.”

“Crowley will just keep them long enough to work off the excess spark so they don't accidentally blow anything up,” the younger Winchester added blithely, unaware of how much his words affected the rest of the Hale pack.

“Spark?” Talia queried in shock, though a quick glance showed that none of the Stilinski pack looked surprised. Neither did Peter, Niklaus, or Elijah. Neither Derek nor Cora would meet her eyes.

Dean, however, suddenly looked angry, though not at anyone in particular. "They never told anyone, did they?"

"What do you think, Dean?" Sam asked drily. They had both known the twins long enough to know that there was no way that they would do anything to put their home in danger, even if it would be personally beneficial to them.

"The only reason we let them come back to this crazy ass town was because they promised to make friends!” the older Winchester argued. He pointed menacingly at Scott, who had only recently come out from behind Jackson. “You were supposed to make them make friends!"

Scott gestured frantically toward the rest of his pack. "They did!”

The Winchesters’ eyes as they studied the Stilinski pack were just as critical as Crowley’s had been, but eventually, Sam smiled and moved to shake hands with the group.

Dean just shook his head _. Things were so much easier when we just killed werewolves,_ he mused _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go. As always, thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

A little while later saw the Winchesters, the angels, Niklaus and Peter sitting in the werewolf’s apartment.

"I still don't know how they found us. We were finishing up a hunt in Ann Arbor when we walked out of the hotel and they're sitting on the hood of my car."

"Like Cas says, ‘Where there's a will, there's a way, Dean.’” Sam turned to the other men. "They discovered the origin of sparks."

"When the angels fell,” Castiel said solemnly, “they found people to host them."

The werewolf and the hybrid tried not to look too interested in what the angel was saying.

Peter and Niklaus had both studied sparks, but had read nothing connecting them to angels. Of course, wasn't much reliable information about sparks at all, but there hadn't even been a hint of a possibility in anything they'd found. "Those people were tested--they're not sparks,” Peter argued.

Gabriel scoffed. "Of course not, though it's hilarious that you humans think you could tell the difference."

"Our Father wanted to reward those who had offered shelter to our kind during the Fall,” the other angel continued. "Decades after the ascension back into heaven, babies being born into families affected by the Host began to show the spark."

Peter frowned. "Sparks are nephilim?"

"No, but they are...special."

“There are still many people who exalt the angels, why not reveal the connection?” Klaus asked. Despite all of the violence that followed the Fall, the faithful still saw angels in a positive light. No doubt hunters would think twice about executing a spark if they feared the wrath of heaven.

Dean laughed outright and Sam snickered into his drink, while both Castiel and Gabriel looked uncomfortable. “None of the angels or demons knew about it either until the twins somehow found a book in Enochian and taught themselves how to read it.” Sam shook his head fondly. “Evidently, there was some sort of prophecy.”

“The two of them hunted us down and demanded we introduce them to angels," Dean continued, "which we did because the two of them are surprisingly frightening when they put their minds to it.”

“We love them like family,” Sam added proudly.

"As for not revealing the connection,” Gabriel said, “It would place sparks in even more danger than they face from narrow-minded hunters. Look at what humans did to people you thought were angelic hosts.” His eyes narrowed at Stiles's potential beaus. “And if you dare to spread this information, by the way, I'll play your ribs like a xylophone."

“Do we look like the types to spread tales?” the hybrid countered.

“You trade in knowledge,” the archangel replied, eyeing the couple speculatively. “I only hope that your devotion to Stiles outweighs your lust for power. I’d hate to have to smite you.”

“We love him,” Peter said defensively, glaring at their guests.

“Good. Maybe you should tell _him_ that.”

<> <>

Nicklaus hated inaction; waiting was for the foolish and the weak. Yet hours after the Winchesters and their angels had disappeared, his was sitting at home waiting for news like some blushing maiden. Even Peter and Elijah were indisposed at the moment: Peter was meeting with the other Hales, while his brother had disappeared to talk to some shadowy contact of his about the Sheriff's location. Klaus had no patience for research at the moment, and so was mostly pacing. He had a brief thought to contact Scott or one of the other young wolves in the Stilinski pack, before realizing that they were all likely to be at the Hale house as well.

He growled in frustration. Whatever wise man had said that in any moment of decision, the worst thing a person can do is nothing had obviously met the Mikaelsons at some point. As it was, Klaus was doing nothing while others were searching for the twins and their father. The whole situation was unacceptable, and it made him want to kill something.

He was so caught up in his brooding that it took him a moment to notice that Elijah was standing in the doorway.

"I haven't found Stiles,” his brother said shortly, “but I have come across some other relevant information. I had a strange chat with an old acquaintance recently. He mentioned  that there was a spell, never successfully completed, that would give a person the power of a spark. It requires an obscene amount of supernatural blood, and is generally only attempted by fanatics and madmen."

Klaus blinked. “The murders throughout the county?”

“So it would seem. Perhaps you shall have a chance to protect him after all.” Klaus shot his older brother a look, but Elijah just smiled at him. “I have already let Talia know we're coming.”

“We can't just rip their hearts out and be done with it?” Klaus muttered, but he was moving toward the door even as he said it.

<> <>

Peter had taken the news better than expected, Elijah thought, as he watched his brother and brother-in-law skulk from the corner of the room. No doubt, the explosion would come later, but hopefully Stiles would be able to temper most of their destructive tendencies.

“These are human hunters,” he explained, “who have used a very old ritual to bind demons into helping them kill enough people to do this particular spell.”

“Why use demons at all?” Talia asked with a frown.

“Many people believe that the spark is demonic in nature. They see sparks as unpredictable and uncontrollable, much like demons. It's one of the reasons why people want to kill them.”

“Demons can cause much more damage to other supernatural creatures than humans,” Talia interjected, not seeing the connection. “What does this have to do with the murders?”

Elijah looked at the alpha couple, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation just beyond their territory. “This spell has never been successfully completed, and there is no reason to believe that it will be successful this time.”

“Why are you so worried?”

Lucas sat up straighter and pinned Elijah with a knowing look. “Sparks are related to angels, instead of demons, aren't they? If anyone bothered to look at the wards surrounding this town--”

Talia sent her husband a confused frown. “We check the wards twice a week.”

“No," the man corrected, "I mean actually _look_ at runes that run through them. Stiles and Lydia have accomplished rune work that I would have said was impossible had I not seen it myself. And that work is bolstered by Enochian sigils. I can't read them, of course, but the fact that the sigils are there is telling.”

The Hale alpha tried to readjust her perception of the Stilinski twins to the information Elijah presented, and failed. It didn't matter. She pushed it aside in the face of the threat to the county. "How do we help them?”

<> <>

As fate would have it, it wasn't Lydia and Stiles that needed the help at all.

(As predicted, the mess of their father's captors that the twins left behind was one that was spoken of with admiration in Hell for decades afterward. One of them lesser demons won the "how many pieces" pool, though others argued for months that there was no way that the pieces recovered could possibly be enough to account for six humans.)

Less than a day after the twins left to rescue their father, a handful of hunters attempted to kill a peaceful family of wendigos living on the outskirts of Beacon Hills. Thankfully, one of their sons managed to escape and call for help and, while the police were processing the crime scene, Peter, Laura, Klaus, and Elijah chased down the three hunters, who were easily apprehended and imprisoned in the basement of the Hale house.

Unfortunately, the group only remembered that their captives were no ordinary hunters when one of them grabbed Cora as a hostage when she stepped to close to one of them.

“I wouldn't struggle too much dearie, unless you want me to slit your throat,” the hunter let her eyes turn black for a moment before she dragged the werewolf into the yard. “We're going to get what we want, you know.”

“Doesn't this go against your Code, becoming monsters?” Cora spat. She didn't look frightened, just really annoyed.

“We consider it being proactive in doing our jobs,” the man interjected. He looked more like a math teacher than a hunter. Tall and lanky, he would be the easiest to subdue, even with a the demon.

The third woman, though? She looked remarkably like the hunter who had tried to burn the Hale house. Her hair and eye colors were different, but the manic gleam in her eyes was exactly the same. It made Cora shiver, and both Talia and Peter snarled in anger.

“Do you know why sparks are so rare?” she asked conversationally, taking Cora’s arm and dragging her outside and toward the Preserve. “It's because everyone fears them. I think I deserve to be feared, don't you?”

The woman stepped forward to the tree line, only to be pushed back by an invisible wall.

“You know, devil's traps are pretty limited.” Stiles and Lydia were suddenly standing off to the side, as if they had just come from the backyard, a handful of rather ugly dogs beside them. “Most of them are fairly small and...impermanent. But it's amazing what you can accomplish in the woods in the middle of the night.” Stiles huffed out a laugh. “Got quite a few splinters, though.”

The hunters stared at the twins before the woman scoffed in disbelief. “That's not possible. Even if you had created a giant trap in the woods, we’d still be able to get in.”

“That is generally the way it works, yes,” Stiles agreed.

“My brother didn't want to come back, you know,” Lydia offered nonchalantly, apropos of nothing. “We were on our way to Hong Kong, on the hunt for what might be the biggest magical find in a quarter of a century, when we came home. We came home, and we were mostly happy,” she looked fondly at the pack, then briefly glared at Peter and Klaus (and the dogs next to her growled lowly), “and then you took our dad.”

“So not only did you insult the King of Hell with your ritual, you pissed off two experienced sparks.” Stiles gestured with his hand, and Cora slid easily in his direction. He checked the wolf over for injuries before pushing her towards her family. “You've already lost your friends. And, in case you haven't noticed, we're definitely not demons.”

As soon as Cora was in Derek's arms, Lydia fixed the hunters with a dark stare. “You want power? You're going to have to work for it the hard way.” The growling got louder, and the hunters paled.

“The demons we control--”

“Will be fine,” Lydia interrupted, “thank you so much for your concern. In fact, you'll probably see each other face to face very soon. You can say ‘hello’ for us.”

“We'll give you a choice,” Stiles said. “You can run, and maybe have a few hours before the hounds catch you and literally rip you apart...”

“Or, you can let the wards burn you out,” Lydia finished.

“Wards can't do that,” the first hunter argued, but her eyes were worried.

The twins smiled in unison, and more than just the hunters shivered. “If you say so.”

For a few moments, no one moved or spoke, and Klaus was pleased that no one spoke out against Stiles and Lydia's bloodthirsty tactics. Even Talia, who was known for her diplomacy, was watching the exchange with more interest than fear.

The male hunter made a choice, and started running towards town. The first hunter hesitated before deciding to try her luck as well, and took off after him.

The third hunter, however, stayed and glared hatefully at the twins. “Even if I die, I'll just come back as a demon. The first thing I'm going to do is come for you."

Lydia rolled her eyes. “You really don't know how any of this works, do you? Oh, well, Crowley will teach you.”

Stiles bent down and started patting the hellhounds affectionately, scratching them behind the ears as they playfully bumped against him. “It will hurt less if you're actually on a ward line” he told the hunter, before turning back to the hounds. “Go get ‘em, guys,” he said, and the hounds disappeared.

Lydia grabbed her brother's hand just as the hunter charged. The moment their palms touched, the wards surrounding the town flared with power, flooding the whole of Beacon Hills with light like the sun. Lydia heard people crying out in shock, and hoped that she and Stiles hadn't inadvertently caused any accidents. The wards would only kill the hunter, but that didn't mean that the light wasn't painful to those with sensitive eyes.

It was over in seconds, but the only thing left of the third hunter was a pile of ash.

No one said a word.

Lydia sighed as the heaviness in her chest finally dissipated, and Stiles squeezed his sister's hand.

<> <>

It took almost three weeks of very obvious gestures for Stiles to agree to dinner, and only if they didn't actually call it a date.

“What are your plans?” Peter asked him frankly, handing the younger man a plate of food. Lydia and Jackson were out together, so Peter and Niklaus had taken the opportunity to spend time with Stiles.

“We have responsibilities here now that we didn't have before, so we can't just take off, even if we wanted to," Stiles admitted, doing his best to ignore the naked hope in the other men’s eyes. Surely, they had just been flirting with him before. Right?

“Stiles?”

“No matter what else you may believe about us, we _do_ want to court you.”

Stiles’s eyes may have bugged out a little bit at that. “Really?” He meant to sound skeptical, but it came out just a little too breathy for that.

“Let us be your dark knights.” Klaus was practically pressed against him now, dinner forgotten. Stiles swallowed, and the hybrid’s eyes darkened. “We _will_ cherish you.”

The spark stepped back, only to meet Peter, who wrapped his arms around Stiles from behind and pressed his nose into the crook of Stiles's neck. “Let us love you.”

With Peter's hands on his hips and Klaus’s lips inches from his, Stiles made his choice.

“You’re going to have to work for it,” he warned them with a smirk.

<> <> <> <>

It took less than a week after the twins had agreed to stay in Beacon Hills for Gabriel to start sending them babysitters.

"...we do not need a garrison following us around,” Lydia said flatly.

"But--"

"No."

"The Grigori--"

"Are busy enough as it is,” she finished.

"It's also a gross misuse of resources,” Stiles added.

"I think others might disagree." Sam and Dean, Scott, Jackson, Niklaus, and Peter all came to mind, not that Gabriel would mention them. He liked his wings where they were, thank you.

The twins let out two huge sighs.

"What if something comes after you?" the angel whined.

"Have you seen the wards? Anything that tries to get into town without permission is going to be vaporized,” Stiles assured him.

“But--”

“Not to mention the overprotective significant others,” Lydia reminded him.

"You can always visit, you know,” they reminded him gently.

Gabriel would have argued more, just for fun, but the lovers came and dragged their sparks away.

That was fine; he’d just go to the wolves next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations on making it to the end!
> 
> I appreciate everyone who took the time to comment, leave kudos, or send me generally positive thoughts.
> 
> This fic was such a pain to write. I set it aside, twice, for a couple of months each time, because I wasn't sure exactly where I wanted it to go. It started out as just a twin spark Stiles and Lydia story, and then I added relationships (and set it aside), and Supernatural (another break), and if I hadn't just opened it one day on a whim and forced myself to write some random stuff, I'm not sure this would be done now. I have a soft spot in my heart for this fic for just that reason, so I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Next week: The first chapter in a two part fairytale fic featuring Stiles and Peter, a Bleach fic, and possibly another fic TBD.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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